Second Time Around
by Aqua Lion
Summary: (Complete!) To err is human, but to really screw everything up, it takes a Rat. Just when Adam thought things were improving, too... and just what's going on with Scooter and Julie? *takes place after Sketches*
1. Nightmare

**Second Time Around**   
Chapter 1: Nightmare 

_A/N- Sketches, my quick, impulsive, plot bunny fic that somehow wound up 3 chapters long, now has a sequel?! I'd like to know how this happened. Oh well. Plenty of angst still (particularly this chapter -_-') but more humor, and maybe even romance, eventually. ^_^ POV will probably end up hopping around each chapter. *shrug* Adam's POV, for now. Ducks belong to Disney._

***** 

I hate it when I get like this. 

The last time, I did something incredibly stupid. I won't do that again. I learned my lesson. I was lucky. 

But, it doesn't mean the depression can't still hit. And now that Charlie's gone off on this supportive-friend crusade, my guard's down, and it's even worse. I can only deal with it at all if I keep telling myself that overall, things have improved. Because they have. It's only times like this, when I'm alone with my thoughts... 

Normally, in this mood, I would be drawing. But I can't. It's raining, so going up on the roof is out. And turning on any light would wake my roommate up. (Which would suck. After about the fifth fight, they finally moved me out of the room I was sharing with one of the Varsity players for the rest of the year, but they didn't have space to put me with the Ducks. So I'm with a football player. He's nice enough, but he's also about twice my size and I don't want to piss him off.) So my options are pretty much limited to lying in bed being miserable. 

Not the most fun I could be having. 

The problem isn't Charlie. We're getting along fine. In fact, we're probably getting along better than we did _before_ the Varsity mess. 

No. The problem is the rest of the Ducks. I still can't help feeling a little betrayed by all of them. Betrayed, and used. Like my first game as a Duck. They all hated me... until I scored that first goal. Then they were just fine with it. Using me. 

Sometimes I hate myself for thinking like that. 

I can never figure out where these thoughts come from. Not an hour ago, other than the fact I was doing homework, I was fine. _Fine_. That's always when it hits me, so suddenly, and refuses to go away. 

I wish Jesse was here. At least then I would have someone to talk to about something, anything, even something completely unrelated to what's going through my mind now. I know, Charlie told me I could talk to _him_, but I don't want to. And it's hard to catch him anyway. He's too busy with Linda. 

I think that so spitefully, but it's not because I'm jealous of her. I'm really not. Well... no more than of Charlie, anyway. And for about the same reasons. 

Two in the morning. I really should sleep. 

Quietly as I can, I slip out of bed and hunt down my equipment bag. There's some Tylenol PM in there. Don't ask why I keep that with my sports stuff, because I don't know. 

My hand clutches something shaped like a Tylenol bottle. That'll be it. Five minutes more, and I'm out cold. 

~~~~~   
_The room's thermostat is trying to tell me it's almost 80 degrees in here. But I'm freezing. Freezing... nothing's going to help that. The cold will only leave when this pain goes away too... the emptiness... and that can never happen, because I will never be dense enough to let my guard down and trust anyone again. The betrayal still stings. Their betrayal. My betrayal. Who was first? I don't know. I don't think I know anything imoprtant anymore._

_I finish my drawing. It's another one of those annoying symbolic ones. I seem to be drawing more and more of those lately. But it fits, at least. What's written below it isn't half the story. I can't really describe this feeling. But... it _is_ like falling. Falling, with nobody there to catch you, to slow the fall, if only for a moment._

_My roommate's gone. He'll probably be back around 1 in the morning. They'll catch him breaking curfew, probably, but since he's a _hockeyplayer_, they'll let him off. But it will delay him. I don't care. Why would I want him to be here?_

_His art supply box is on his desk. I'm not taking art this semester, but I know what the required supplies are. There should be a knife in there. He won't mind if I borrow it, and if he does mind, it won't be my problem anyway._

_Everything seems so hazy. I know I'm not thinking straight, but I won't care in a few minutes. I hesitate. Cloudy as my mind may be, I'm still enough with it to be afraid. I can call it off now. Nobody will ever have to know. But... just a little more pain. A slight bit more, and I'll never have to be hurt again. Hell with it. I don't have hindsight to worry about. I can never regret this._

_I hardly even feel the first, tentative cut. This isn't so bad, really. And I can keep telling myself that. Until the first few drops of blood trickle down my arm._

_I barely suppress a scream. It's like fire just ran across my wrist. For an instant, I see things clearly again. So clearly. What the hell am I thinking? I race into the bathroom and wrap a washcloth around my wrist, holding it as tight as I can. The blood soaks through quickly, but it wasn't a very large cut. I'm going to be okay._

_I hope. Old memories emerge, quicker than I can keep track of what happened, just enough for the emotions of the time to resurface. Is this what they mean by your life flashing before your eyes when you die? No, can't be. I'm plenty alive. I see things more clearly than I ever have before..._

_The memories are starting to fit together. I draw the conclusion I should've come to much earlier. This is beyond selfish. This will only hurt them. Not me, I won't care. And what right do I have to hurt _them_ more, when all of this is _my_ fault?_

_And that is what I should have realized sooner. All of it's my fault..._   
~~~~~ 

I wake up with a start. God, I can be an idiot sometimes. You'd think I would have learned, at some point in my life, that me and medicine-induced sleep do not mix. They didn't when I was 3 and had nothing more to worry about than the monsters under my bed. They didn't when I got older and learned I had to worry about my parents, too. They didn't when I became a Duck, and _she_... never mind. Point is, they _still don't_. It isn't the first time I've had that particular nightmare. Of course, the first time was the hardest. Seeing as that time, it wasn't a dream... 

Get with it, Banks. What time is it, anyway? 

Four in the morning. Good enough for me. Two hours is plenty. Isn't it? I could pull this off, except that for various reasons, I haven't had much more than two hours any day yet this week. 

I can't miss classes today. It's Friday. We've got a biology exam. Wait, why am I worrying about that? Mrs. Madigan and her exam can burn in hell for all I care, it's her homework that's kept me up most of the week. 

I set my alarm for 6:30. Charlie should show up around 6:45 to drag me off to breakfast, we'll see what happens then. 

I don't get to sleep easily in the best of times. With all this, when the alarm goes off, I'll probably still be awake. 

***** 

I was right about not getting to sleep. Max, my roommate, woke me up (well, tried to, it didn't work for obvious reasons) at 5:30 and told me I was missing practice, was I okay? Like I said, he's a nice guy, as long as he's not mad. I told him I didn't feel good, and he didn't press me. 

Charlie showed up ten minutes early and demanded to know what could possibly have kept me off the ice. I explained my sleep problems... sort of. 10 hours in 5 days was enough to get him off my case. I didn't tell him about the nightmare. How could I? After all I went through to convince him I'm over my suicidal kick, that would be awfully counterproductive. 

I think I finally got to sleep, or maybe I just spent the entire day in a state of semi-consciousness. Wouldn't surprise me. In any case, around 7 Charlie came in. He told me in no uncertain terms that even though I needed sleep, I shouldn't starve myself, that wouldn't help matters. I allowed myself to be dragged to the cafeteria. 

Which is where we are now. Linda comes to sit with us. That worries me, a little. Sure, she hangs out with the team sometimes, but since _when_ does she sit with us at dinner? 

Has Charlie told her something? 

She smiles at me and starts concentrating on her dinner. Charlie talks. "You missed a great music class, Banksie. She made Cole sing." 

I nearly choke. "And I'm upset about missing this _because_?" Cole somehow ended up in our music class after the first grading quarter. He was probably failing art. 

"Portman threw a tomato at him." 

"Why did he have a tomato in art class??" I don't think I want to know the answer to that, but at least it keeps us from having any serious discussion. 

"Not sure. He was probably planning to throw it at Cole whether he sang or not... or maybe he was saving it for biology, Mrs. Madigan could do with a vegetable in her face now and then. But Ms. Delaney was laughing so hard she didn't even get around to giving him detention." 

I force a laugh, and finish my sandwich as quickly as possible. I want to get out of there. 

Charlie doesn't go with me, because he's not done eating. That was the idea. But Linda whispers something to him as they watch me leave. I get an odd feeling that they're talking about me. 

Stupid thought. Isn't it? ..._Isn't it?_


	2. Cat and Rat

**Second Time Around**   
Chapter 2- Cat and Rat 

_Disclaimer- While Disney _still_ owns the Ducks, and... somebody else... owns Sphere, I own Rat. (ha! The disclaimer gets to say something different!)_

_Rat's POV_

He's here again. 

As I exit the scrimmage for our backup sweeper to get some practice, I glance over to the opposite sideline. The young man's intense blue eyes are focused elsewhere. He doesn't notice that I'm staring at him. 

The curiosity is killing me. Curiosity's supposed to kill cats, not rats, dammit. But why does he only watch practices? I haven't seen him at any of the games, so it can't be a serious interest in the sport. Who is he? And what's so great about watching the Eden Hall Inferno practice, anyway? 

Particularly because the Inferno is considered a second-rate team. We aren't, really, though. Not in skill, at least. The Inferno is made up of the Warriors who got kicked off the team for bad grades. They still let us play, we just get stuck in team tutoring sessions twice a week. 

I'm only a freshman and I'm already failing. Wonderful! 

The watcher, as I call him for lack of a real name, suddenly turns and looks at me. Stare long enough at a person and they _will_ figure it out, whether they realize they know it or not. I quickly turn away. 

It bothers me, though. He looks so lonely there. 

"Rat! Get back in the game!" 

The watcher is forgotten. 

***** 

"Linda!" 

My roommate turns and smiles at me. "Hey, Griffian! How was practice?" 

I restrain the urge to complain about the name. She's not comfortable calling me Rat... I eventually told her if she wanted to call me by my last name instead, that was all right, but I would have to kick her ass if she called me Ratana again. She doesn't seem to mind that. I'm not sure if it's because lots of athletes use their last names, or just because Griffian does not reference a small, furry, disreputable rodent that freaks out the stereotypical prep school girl. 

Linda annoys me sometimes. 

Today, though, I don't give her my normal lecture, because she's with another girl. Fairly tall and blond-haired, and quite athletic looking. Linda is waiting for an answer, so I restrain my question for a moment. "Practice went fine, except someone decided it would be funny to kick a ball in my face." I turn to her friend. Nothing irritates me more than being with someone, and having one of their friends ask _them_ who I am. "So, who're you?" 

Linda would usually butt in and answer anyway. But the blond doesn't give her a chance. "Julie Gaffney." She extends her hand. 

I shake it. So, this is Julie the Cat. I don't watch much hockey, but of course everyone knows how the Ducks clobbered the Varsity awhile back. "Rat Griffian." 

Linda quickly turns a laugh into a cough, and I know what she's thinking. Cat and Rat. We're sure to be friends now. "I'd love to hang around, but I promised Charlie I'd go to a movie with him. And I'm due there in," she checks her watch, "about twenty minutes." And she's off. 

I can only shake my head. Julie looks at me. "Well," she says with a hesitant shrug, "I guess that was a hint." 

"Guess so," I agree. Now that I think about it, it wouldn't be so bad to have another _girl_ friend in this school. Especially considering who my only current one is... "You know, movies don't sound like such a bad idea." 

She gets my point. 

***** 

Nothing good was on at the theatre, which meant we hit the video store. We agreed on Sphere. She said we could watch it in her dorm, and I figured we might as well—mine's all the way across campus. 

About halfway through the movie, someone knocked on the door. She shrugged apologetically and paused the movie. 

I nearly shouted something (don't know what I was planning to shout, exactly, but probably some form of profanity.) It was _him_. I was too busy overcoming the shock to catch any of what was said. 

Julie closes the door. "Who was that?" I ask, a little too quickly. 

She tosses a notebook, which I assume is the reason he visited, onto her bed. "Adam Banks. A teammate. He was sick yesterday, so he borrowed my history notes. And unlike _most_ people on the team, I didn't have to threaten him with death or serious injury to get them back." She shook her head in mock disgust and muttered something that sounded a lot like 'Portman.' 

Adam Banks. 

That brings up a whole new set of questions. Doesn't he have hockey practice to go to? Why is a hockey player interested in soccer, anyway? And why is he watching us instead of hanging out with the rest of his team? Ugh. I really need to stop asking so many questions. 

We return to the movie. Next time Adam Banks shows up at practice, though... we're going to have a little chat. 

***** 

_A/N- That was a lot shorter than I wanted it to be. >_ Oh well, mission accomplished, Rat exists now. Next chapter'll be better. ^_^_


	3. Just for Kicks

**Second Time Around**   
Chapter 3- Just for Kicks 

_A/N- Charlie's POV, which I swore to myself I wouldn't do again after Sketches... How do I get myself into these messes? I don't even _like_ Charlie. Revised, so the times actually agree with the rest of the story now._

***** 

"Banks!" 

I pause for a moment. Coach doesn't usually talk to Banks. For one thing, he never does anything to deserve a lecture. For another thing, it's no secret that he hates Orion's guts. If he were just a little less skilled at keeping his temper in check, he would've skated more laps than the rest of the team combined—and considering he missed a good bit of JV time, that's saying something. 

I follow him over to where Coach is standing. He doesn't protest, which I take as permission. Coach will say to leave, though, so I skate around just far enough away to still hear. 

"Banks, that was a lousy practice. You looked tired. How much sleep have you been getting?" 

I can practically see the resentment clouding around our resident ace, and I don't entirely blame him. He _was_ sick Friday, after all, and he's still a little... a lot... out of it. But I have to admit that, in his defense, Coach Orion is _always_ honest. If he thinks you had a lousy practice, you find out. 

"Enough." 

"A number, Banks." 

He scowls. "Seven hours a night?" 

I know that he's lying, and Coach isn't fooled. Banks can tell, also. He turns to leave, but on his way out is instructed, "Well, maybe you need more than that. Or you just need to work harder. That effort wasn't worthy of first line." 

Something tells me that if he weren't wearing hockey gloves, Adam would've flipped him off. As it is, he doesn't dignify the order with a response. 

I follow him into the locker room. "Don't take it personally, Banksie. But he's got one thing right. You _haven't_ been sleeping enough." 

"Not my fault," he mutters. "When Madigan stops giving us homework with detailed descriptions of dissected cats, I'll stop staying awake all night." 

I have to laugh, he has a point. Our latest assignments _have_ been pretty graphic. 

"Going to watch soccer practice again?" 

"Yeah." 

"I'm coming with you." He doesn't look thrilled about that. "And it's no use complaining, practices are open." 

***** 

I get my first major shocks of the day when we reach the soccer field. First, whoever's practicing definitely isn't the Eden Hall team. Either of them. They don't seem to have any sort of official uniform, and there's no coach. "Did I miss something? This is a practice?" 

"Not sure," he answers. "But it's like this every Sunday." 

I turn my attention back to the real shocker. There's a girl out there. That in itself doesn't surprise me much, but I _know_ her! Well, not really, but I know who she is. She's Linda's roommate. Griffian, I believe her name is... Ratana Griffian. 

She gets run over by someone on the other team. I cringe, thinking surely that must've hurt, but she just hops up and punches the offender. "Whoa. Is she usually like that?" 

He frowns. "Usually. She's tougher than most of the others on her team. Then again... she's on the Inferno." 

Makes sense. The Inferno team is known school-wide as less 'team,' more 'collection of near-militant individuals.' 

We've only been watching for a few minutes when Griffian goes out of the game. After thinking for a moment she seems to make a decision, and walks straight to where we're sitting. I give Adam a curious look—does he know her? And if he does, _how_ did that happen? After all, he's not exactly the social type. But no, he looks just as confused as I am. 

She frowns at both of us, then turns her gaze on Adam. "_You_ are here every day, and for no apparent reason, and I'm getting sick of it," she announces, in a businesslike tone. She turns to me. "And I think this is your first time, but you're also here for no apparent reason. Today this isn't a practice, it's a pick-up game. Therefore, would you guys like to play?" 

We exchange glances. "I know nothing about soccer," I inform him. 

"Me either." 

"Except you're not allowed to hit people." 

"Yeah." 

She looks very amused at this exchange. "It's not difficult. We'll put you on defense. If the ball comes near you, kick it to someone else in blue." She goes over to the bench, pulls two blue practice jerseys out of a crate, and throws them at us. 

This isn't quite what I bargained for. The look on Adam's face says it's not what he came here to do, either. But we've had our minds made up for us. "What can it hurt?" I ask him finally, pulling the shirt on. "If we can play hockey, we can certainly handle _soccer_." 

He shrugs. "Sure." 

Griffian is smirking. "This I've got to see. Eden Hall hockey players who don't need skates to move. All right. We'll get you two in ASAP. And by the way, what're your names?" 

I shoot Adam a warning look, he looks ready to clobber her for the insult. "I'm Charlie." 

"Adam." He still sounds a little affronted. 

If she picks up on his tone, she ignores it. "I'm Rat. Nice to meet you. Now get in the game." 

***** 

Adam collapses onto his bed. "_Never_ again." 

"I agree." The game wasn't near over, but Rat told us that people go and come whenever they please. So we went. Banksie's room was closest, and here we are. 

Kenny looks at us curiously. "You guys are the two best players on the hockey team. Soccer can't be _that_ tough." He's got just enough amusement in his voice to be considered irritating. 

"Watch it, little Bash Brother, or out you go," Adam threatens. Kenny shuts up. We found him in the hall being threatened by a gang of Varsity goons—which seems to happen a lot. While he's no longer sharing a room with one of them, Banksie's room is still close enough to the Varsity hallway to be a reasonable sanctuary for any unfortunate Ducks who get caught passing through. 

"Yeah, really, Wu. You try it sometime." I drop on Max's bed and groan. Rat really put us through our paces out there. Seeing how well we _didn't_ pick up on the concept of defense positions not scoring, she talked the rest of the team into letting us switch to halfbacks. _Man_. I don't know much about soccer positions, but I know that halfback must be the worst. By the time you've made it to one side of the field, it's time to go running back to the other. 

And we were out there for _three hours!_ I don't know how that happened, I really don't, but I do know one thing. A little over a week ago, I told Linda about Adam's depression problems, and she said he needs a girlfriend. And now, out of the blue, her roommate decided to talk to him. _Now_. Even though he's been watching their practices almost all year! 

It can't be a coincidence. Can it? 

Whatever the case, now's not the time to dwell on it. He's got to find a friend somewhere, after all. Linda would never ask someone to start a false friendship, especially not with one of _my_ best friends... 

And if Rat Griffian can do anything for Adam, I will be a happy Duck. 

Without my noticing, Kenny and Adam have struck up a conversation. "Just be sure you guys don't forget which sport you play. State championships are coming up soon!" 

"I told you already, I'm never playing soccer again." Adam shakes his head. 

"Me either," I pitch in. "But if we make the championships, Coach Orion's gonna have us working a lot harder than Rat did." 

Adam groans. "Oh yes. This game is _what_ now? Starts with a W!" 

"War!" Kenny and I both yelled. 

Speaking of war... conversation turned to how we could best sabotage the Varsity locker room in 'honor' of the trip to the playoffs they would surely get. 

***** 

I was recovered in time for dinner that night. 

"I had _nothing_ to do with it," Linda assures me. "All I did was introduce her to Julie." 

And that was entirely without a motive, I'm sure. But I can't ask her any more, because Averman and Goldie come up. "Charlie! Come on, you're the captain and you sit with the team!" Averman announces. They drag me away to the Duck table without giving me time to protest. 

Linda finds it amusing. 

Adam's not here, he's probably asleep. Following Coach's orders. That or he's lying awake in bed being depressed, but I prefer to give him the benefit of the doubt now. Russ isn't here either, he's serving yet _another_ detention for Mrs. Madigan. Somebody else is missing too, I realize. Julie. 

"Hey Connie, where's the Cat-lady?" Goldberg inquires, just before I get a chance to. "She skipping tonight?" 

"She's sitting with someone else." Connie points to a corner of the cafeteria. Our goalie is seated next to Scooter. Also at their table is a brown-haired girl in a soccer jersey. 

Cat and Rat. I fight back a laugh. 

Elsewhere, the discussion topic is the upcoming state championships. "I still don't believe he's making us practice at 5 on the weekends now too," Portman is complaining. Most of the team agrees with him. Even the few of us who see the mornings on weekends—as in waking up during the morning, not going to bed during the morning—never get up _that_ early. 

"Hey, could be worse." Everyone turns to look at Ken, interested. It's reflex. The last time he told us things could be worse, it ended with us freezing Varsity's locker room. This time, of course, it's a little more docile, just some information he's gotten to aid us in our Warrior-hunting. "On weekdays Varsity's practicing at 6 in the morning, for two hours, then eight at night for another two hours. And on the weekends they do four hours straight in the afternoon." 

Everyone groans sympathetically. Not that we feel sorry for the _Varsity_, exactly, why should we? But hockey players are hockey players, no matter how stupid some of them are. We've got to feel a little empathy. 

After dinner I suddenly find myself totally exhausted. I look at my biology homework—diagrams of frog organs—then at my bed. Tough decision, real tough. 

It doesn't help my studious side's case that Guy goes straight to sleep. I consider the situation. Today I've had a normal two hour weekend practice, then three hours of soccer... and I'm getting an A in that class. I can afford to miss one assignment. 

I was asleep the second I touched the pillow. 


	4. Pages Torn Out

**Second Time Around**   
Chapter 4: Pages Torn Out 

_A/N- Whoa... had to make some slight changes to chapter 3, nothing major though, since I somehow had chapter 2 and chapter 3 being the same day, which doesn't quite work out. Oh well. As for this chapter, Adam's POV. T-wolves rule! ^_^_

***** 

Monday, I found myself heading to the soccer field after classes. I have no idea why I was still going there, after what Rat put us through... Maybe because it was the Warriors practicing, not the Inferno, and she wouldn't be there. 

So I thought. 

Midway through the practice, I hear someone come up behind me. "Hey." 

I resist the urge to groan. Rat is standing there, wearing a Minnesota Timberwolves T-shirt. Great, maybe today she'll want me to play basketball. 

Won't happen. 

She seems to have taken my silence as permission to start a conversation. "So, you come to _all_ of the practices?" 

"Most of them." I suddenly come to a realization, and it greatly annoys me. I _wanted_ to talk to her. "Tell me something." 

"Hmm?" I assume that was a yes. 

"What was the point of dragging us out there to play yesterday?" 

She frowns, and for a minute I don't think she's going to answer. Finally, "Well, you come here every day for no apparent reason. Like I said before. So I figured, if you were going to be watching all the time, you might as well get to play, since playing's more fun than watching. And also, I met one of your teammates Saturday... when I found out you were on the hockey team I got _really_ curious about why you were always coming here. But since your friend was with you yesterday, I didn't want to ask. But I just had to say something." 

I'm probably staring at her, but that's okay. Is she outgoing or just insane? (Wait, is there a difference?) And, as I'm staring at her, it suddenly enters my mind that she's actually very pretty when she's not playing slave driver on the soccer field... oh dear. Where did that come from? 

"Going to play next Sunday?" she asks, casually. 

"_No_." 

"Suit yourself. The offer'll still stand, if you change your mind." And she leaves. 

I'm beyond confused now. She's actually being kind of nice—I think. Why has she taken such an interest in me, anyway? What did I do, besides coming to watch soccer practices? For that matter, why did I come to watch soccer practices in the first place? 

Got me. It seemed like a good idea at the time. And I'm stuck with it now. God, I _love_ being a creature of habit. 

Just because I'm watching doesn't mean I'm paying attention. My thoughts turn to the game tomorrow night. It's nearing the end of the season. According to Charlie, if we win this game and Blake loses theirs, we'll be sure to at least get _in_ the state championships. We haven't heard anything about this from Coach, who wants us concentrating on _work_ rather than winning, but he has been driving us harder than usual. 

I don't know what to think about that. It's not that I don't want to go to the playoffs, because I obviously do, but... pressure annoys me. And it tends to make me play badly. (Jr. Goodwill Games, anyone?) 

No point in worrying about it now. There'll be plenty of time to panic once we hit the ice tomorrow. 

***** 

Not for nothing is Mrs. Madigan the least popular teacher in the school. But while biology's the most difficult class at Eden Hall, physical education's got to be the stupidest. 

Mr. Montague has spent the last week telling us that the skill-related fitness components are hereditary and if you suck at agility/balance/coordination/whatever there's probably nothing you can do about it. 

Explain this worksheet? _"Answer in paragraphs. Which of the six skill-related fitness components is your best? Which is your worse?"_ And here's the kicker. _"Why?"_

I'm not even going to deal with this, it's worse than the dissected cats. No, not cats anymore, we've moved on to dissected frogs. Lovely. 

I find myself thinking about Rat. She confuses me. A lot. Is she trying to be my friend, or is she trying to tick me off? Well if it's the first, she's got a hell of a job to do. As do most people, because I don't want to let anyone get too close... but especially not a girl. 

The entire team thinks I've got no interest in girls and, to an extent, they're right. I'm not interested in relationships, period. For awhile there, they thought there was something between Charlie and me... we'd never thought about it, we weren't sure, we discussed it, we decided not. _We_ are not the gay ones on the team. 

I need to stop thinking about that, or I'll start to get jealous. Which bothers me a bit. 

Back to the issue. Rat. My problems with girls have nothing to do with the possibility of having a girlfriend as such... well, very little to do with it. It's just... they always remind me. Of _her_. 

I never figured out what possessed Brian Preston to set me up with his sister. I never figured out whether it was serious or not. But I remember the hurt... when she told me the sister of a Hawk could not be associated with a Duck. 

Just another betrayal. But an early one, when I wasn't used to it. 

Is it time to just let the past stay in the past? I've had this debate with myself before. (I usually lose.) It sometimes takes a little reminder. To strengthen my shields by breaking them. 

I've become an expert at that. 

I quietly get out my sketchbook, and open it to the very back. There's a sort of folder back there. I taped it in. That folder holds the traces of my first loss of control. 

The pages I tore out. To forget. 

There are three of them. The first two tell nothing. Just Preston and his crazy blind date idea. (We were 10. Remind me, _why_ did we need to be dating?) But the third picture... 

The final straw. My real death as a Hawk. _"She broke up with me, and only because I'm on a different team..." _That tells so little of the story. But the drawing... dark, furious, nothing in particular. The first of only two drawings like that. 

I don't think anybody else could really understand the picture. I don't think I know how I understand it, either. But I do know that it's clear to me. Perfectly, painfully clear. And even now I can still see the stains from when I still shed tears at rejection... 

But this year has changed me, maybe for the better. I can't keep living in the past, always afraid. I'll give this a chance. Maybe, Rat and I can be friends after all. Maybe, I can forget my skepticism for once... or maybe this will be like every other time. 

Damn it! Everything was going just _fine!_ Who asked her to come screw things up! 

***** 

Eden Hall Mighty Ducks vs. Taylor Falls Centaurs. 

"Make him make the first move, Banks!" 

I would, Coach, except he passed before you yelled that. Honestly. I hipcheck the Centaur player, purely out of spite. Ken stole the puck while I was occupied. 

He passes, and I sail it up to Guy. Portman and Fulton knock a few Centaurs into the boards while he shoots. Saved—but their goalie has gotten himself pretty well out of the net now. 

Which means it's easy enough for me to grab the rebound, tap it to Fulton, and watch his shot rip the net. 

They call time out to replace the goal. The fans are laughing, the Ducks are laughing. I get the feeling the Centaurs would be laughing too, if we hadn't just taken the lead. 2-1. Julie's on a roll today, as they've outshot us by 11. 

I catch a glimpse of Rat in the stands. _Why_ is she here? Doesn't she have a soccer ball to go kick at something? She's talking to Linda, so she doesn't notice that I was looking at her. Good. I turn my attention back to the game. 

New goal's out. Goldberg and Russ replace Ken and me. As long as Coach Orion doesn't want to complain about my defense, I don't care. I've seen a lot of time this game. 

Charlie gives me a high five. "Hey, did you notice your rodent friend is here?" 

"I noticed," I answer, trying not to sound irritated. "And she's not my friend." 

"She is, don't deny it." 

"Conway! Change it!" 

That was convenient. I consider his words. Rat really isn't my friend, I mean, we've spoken all of two times. But I decided to give her a chance, right? Fine. But the first time Charlie suggests asking her out, he _will_ die. 

Then all thoughts of the soccer player are erased from my mind. Charlie's on a breakaway. Naturally, he tries the triple deke. Everyone in the league is used to that by now, so the goalie saves it easily. 

What he's _not_ expecting is for Connie to blast the rebound in. 

End second period. 

***** 

Third period things changed. We played like a team _possessed_. Dwayne and Luis pulled a beautiful fakeout that (eventually) resulted in Cowboy scoring. Two minutes later, I slammed the puck up the ice a bit harder than I intended to and it actually went in. Another minute, Charlie wraps around and puts it in off the goalie's leg. 

The rest was history. Final score: Ducks 8, Centaurs 1. 

We were partying in the locker room when Coach came in. 

"I've got some good news," he announces. Everybody shuts up. "As I'm sure you're all aware, Blake had a game tonight too. They lost. You guys are in the playoffs." 

_"YES!"_ someone yells. But before we can get started celebrating... 

"Hey, hey, knock that off. Gloat on your own time. We've got three games left and I don't want you getting cocky. Practice tomorrow afternoon, three to six." And he leaves. 

Charlie groans. "Playoffs mean what! Starts with a W!" 

"WORK!" 

"WAR!" Everyone looks at Kenny and me. Oops. Did we say that out loud? Charlie's laughing, the traitor. Never mind that he came up with it. 

"Sounds about right," he manages to choke out. (Yeah, Charlie, you _better_ stick up for us.) 

The team nods in agreement. 

Did I mention that this year has shown a drastic increase in Ducks who despise the letter W? 


	5. Interlude

**Second Time Around**   
Chapter 5: Interlude 

_A/N- There's music in this one! -_-' Hey, seemed like a good idea at the time, the song was just _so_ Banksie, I couldn't help it. Here's an odd disclaimer. The song Do Ya Really Wanna Play belongs to the Pokémon people and that's all I know about it. *shrug* Adam's POV._

_*****___

_Can you be the best, with the power you possess_   
_Can you stand up to the fight_

It's been a long time since I was out here. Here... we call it the Duck Pond. Only five of the Ducks who originally practiced here are still on the team today. Charlie, Goldberg, Averman, Guy, and Connie. 

Jesse, Terry, Peter, and Karp are all gone now, for one reason or another. 

Tammy and Tommy were still figure skaters. 

Fulton couldn't skate. 

Julie, Portman, Ken, Dwayne, and Luis were on their old teams. 

Russ was probably knucklepucking. (Oh yeah, _that'_s a word.) 

I was a Hawk. 

_Can you pass the test, are you frightened to confess_   
_That you just can't get it right_

The District 5 team, though, practiced out there long before any of us played. When I was younger, I would watch them. When they were finished, I got on the ice. _This_ is where I learned to play. First it was my brother who tried to teach me. 

Would anybody believe me, if I told them I used to be hopeless? He finally gave up, told me I would never be able to handle it. Take up basketball or something, he told me. You can never make the Hawks. 

Well look how that turned out. Being the young and idiotic kid I was, I wanted nothing more in life than to make the Hawks. I was stung. I came out here, every night, sometimes for five hours at a stretch. Every second of my free time, I spent learning to play hockey. Learning to fly. I refused to fail. 

I didn't dare. 

_You can win or lose, but you've got to pay your dues_   
_Step up or step away_

All that practicing, alone... thanks to that, I made the Hawks. I thought it was the best thing that ever happened to me. But I paid the price for that. The game is all I've got. I never got used to dealing with people. Because where was I when I should have been making friends? 

On the ice... 

Why did I come out here tonight? It wasn't to reminisce. No...I think I came to practice. But I didn't bring my hockey gear, except my skates. How can I practice like this? 

Sometimes, you've got to stop thinking and just skate. So I do. It's nice, really, just to be _skating_, to not worry about the game, or the team. Alone with the ice. Just one break. Not long from now, we'll be having a real practice. Three hours of it. I'm looking forward to it. And yet, in a way... 

State championships. I've got so many things to worry about anyway, one more worry is _not_ welcome. At the same time, when I'm on the ice, I don't have time to waste thinking about anything else. And this... this is for the _playoffs!_

And, I think as I start back towards the Eden Hall campus, the game that may have completely screwed up my life is the thing that makes it worth living. 

Weird. 

_Do ya really wanna play?_


	6. Guys and Goalies

**Second Time Around**   
Chapter 6: Guys and Goalies 

_A/N- I gave in. I just couldn't have Julie be a main character without Scooter getting a good part. ^_^ Rat's POV_

***** 

"He's a friend." 

"I'm not a friend?" 

"Well, yeah. But you're a _boyfriend_ friend and he's a _friend_ friend." 

I'm starting to get annoyed. How difficult a concept is it for me to have a friend, who's a boy, who's not a boyfriend! I'm on a team with sixteen of them, after all. But no, this business with Adam—I guess since we're not teammates—has ticked my real boyfriend off. 

I met Jay Diaté, Warrior goalkeeper, when I first joined the soccer team. That seems like a long time ago. Back then, I was still passing English, still passing algebra, and still a Warrior. Jay and I bonded quickly. Only a week later, he'd asked me out. 

When your girlfriend's on a sports team dominated by males, you can _not_ be the jealous type. Or you'll go insane. He's usually good about that. But for some reason, Adam seems to bother him. 

"As long as you're sure." He frowns and walks away. 

Sheesh! I'm sure, I'm extremely sure! I've barely talked to the guy! I don't know why I'm paying any attention to him at all! Well... that's not entirely true. I don't like to see people upset. And the way he's almost always alone, the sadness in his eyes, the melancholy way he carries himself... it bothers me. 

Not that he seems particularly grateful for my efforts. Maybe I should lay off. But really, what have I done? I asked him and Charlie to play soccer, and I talked to him for five whole minutes at the Warrior practice Monday. 

Which is why Jay's mad, but anyway. 

I haven't seen him since, except when he was on the ice Tuesday. I went to the game, to watch Julie. In return, she came and watched the Inferno lose last night. (We have a perfect 50% record now, _go us_.) 

I managed to talk to her for a few minutes after the game. She said they've started having practices in the afternoons now, in preparation for a big game Saturday. (We called it Saturday when she told me about it—now, we call it tomorrow.) I may go to that one, too. 

I watch Jay for another moment, then shrug and head to Julie's dorm. 

***** 

Cat and I have become pretty close. When I explained to her about the difference between the Warriors and the Inferno, she offered to let me study with her. I wasn't sure, at first, whether to take it up. 

The Inferno's not so bad, really. We play the same teams as the Warriors, we actually play _better_ than them (that's not saying much, mind you)... we're just a bit more expensive for the school to maintain. 

They aren't spending that money on soccer equipment. The Inferno isn't a 'real' team, hell, we're probably illegal but I don't think anyone cares. Being an unofficial squad, and all, we don't have anyone else to play. Eden Hall has to buy the competition, if you get my meaning. 

Thanks to that, the Inferno can't be in the state soccer playoffs. (Neither can the Warriors, because they _suck_, but that's way beside the point.) Not even _this_ school can buy an illicit team into legitimacy. 

I'd like a shot. Which means I have to be a Warrior. Which means I have to start passing English and algebra. Algebra's easy enough, I just have to start doing the homework. 

English is why I'm taking Julie up on her offer. 

Scooter opened the door. Somehow, when Julie said she studied with friends, I expected he would be one of them. "Hey, Rat!" He smiles and lets me in. I'm a little surprised to see that Julie's roommate, Connie, isn't here. A little... but not much. I've only seen her once, she seems to spend most of her time out on dates. (Almost as much time as Linda.) 

Speaking of dates, I keep wondering when something's going to happen with Scooter and the Cat. _I_ can tell those two are in love, even if they refuse to admit it. 

Scooter strikes me as the clever type, but not especially scholarly. He didn't come into a girl's room—breaking about 20 school rules in the process—just to study. Come to that, _he's_ not studying much at all, he's just helping us. After all, he's already taken these classes. 

I actually made myself useful and helped Julie with augmented matrices. (Matrixes, dammit, matrixes!) That's rich, from someone failing the class, but I _understand_ it fine. My 100% test percentage just isn't enough to overcome my 0% homework grade. 

Scooter helps me with an English essay (some piece of analytical crap on The Inferno, which I _should_ like), and straightens us out on some biology assignment involving natural selection and frog lungs. Then I decide to leave. Leave the lovebirds alone... 

One or both of them would probably kill me if I said that out loud. 

***** 

I hate almost everything about this school. But especially the Varsity hockey team. (Which of course makes me very different from 3/4 of the school population... right.) I had the misfortune of ending up sitting next to them at the game. Scooter immediately edges towards me. "Hey, Rat, how's it going?" 

He looks uncomfortable, and Riley is glaring at him. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's going on. "They _didn't_ catch you with her," I mutter. Then, louder, "Not bad, you?" 

"They asked me where I was all yesterday afternoon. I told them I was just helping someone study, but they aren't buying it. Cole says he saw me leaving the girls' dorm." He says all this very low and very quickly. 

I like Scooter. He's nice, especially for a Varsity jock, and hey... a friend of Julie's... Besides, I owe him. I never would've gotten that English essay done on my own. 

"By the way, thanks for the homework help yesterday." I say it just loud enough for the rest of Varsity to hear. They exchange glances—after all, _they've_ got no way of knowing I'm not in that building. 

He flashes me a quick, grateful smile. Any further conversation is cut off because the Ducks take the ice. 

Julie is easy enough to pick out, being the only goalie and all. I look for Adam. He's skating near the front of the group, looking supremely confident and collected. It was a real shocker to me, last game, how much different he acts on the ice. 

Scooter is watching Julie, I bet he doesn't take his eyes off her the whole game. It dawns on me that with the rest of his team around, he probably wouldn't be able to cheer for the Ducks without fear of death or serious injury. He doesn't dare go against the team's wishes like that. 

I feel sorry for Scooter. Not his fault his hockey team's the biggest bunch of jerks in Minnesota. I'll just cheer loud enough for the both of us. 

Especially for Julie the Cat. 


	7. Flying Together

**Second Time Around**   
Chapter 7- Flying Together 

_A/N- Magna gratia to those who've reviewed! ^_^ (Ack, I must stop doing Latin homework before writing.) Charlie's POV._

***** 

Eden Hall Ducks vs. Minnetonka Jackals. 

Three minutes left in the game. The Jackals are a pretty bad team this year. No competition. Right now, it's 10-0. I have three goals, Banks has three, Fulton has two, Dwayne and Portman each have one. The entire team has only one thought. 

_Let Fulton get the hat trick._

Guy wins the faceoff and gives it to Connie, on right defense. She takes it up, fakes a pass to Averman, then sends it up to Fulton. 

Portman and Guy clear Jackals out of the way for a cannon shot. The goalie takes it full in the face. He'll wake up in an hour or so... 

Their reserve goalie is in, two minutes left. Their center tries a slap shot from the blue line, but Julie blocks it with her stick. Portman sends it flying down the boards. Guy cuts it off. Stolen. 

At the same time, Averman gets slashed by one of the Jackals, who is subsequently penalized. 

One minute left, Duck power play. We keep it in their zone. Three... Fulton winds up for a shot. Two... their reserve goalie, being smart, chooses to save his life rather than the goal. One... score! 

Duck fans swarm the ice. 

***** 

Ken and Russ are the first to leave the locker room, as usual glued at the hip. I can't help grinning. Either they think they're more subtle than they really are, they don't care, or I'm just a lot more observant than the rest of the team. 

Probably the third, or I would've heard the rumors. I remember that the rumors surfaced once before. Only that time it was about two different Ducks. That was during our camping trip, after the Junior Goodwill Games... 

~~~~~   
_I sat alone on one of the logs in the fire circle, waiting. I'd asked him to show up at 11. I was early. He would not be early. He would be just on time._

_I don't know what I did for those last five minutes. Saying I just sat there seems awfully dull, and not quite right, but I certainly can't think of anything else I might've done._

_Suddenly, I felt a gentle hand tap me on the shoulder. "Hey. Am I late?"_

_I didn't bother to check my watch. It didn't matter, really, and I'm certain he wasn't. "Right on schedule."_

_He dropped onto the log next to mine. "So what's up? ...This is about the rumor, isn't it." I nodded, silently, and he continues. "They'll get tired of it eventually, just ignore it until then."_

_But that's not what I was worried about. "Is it true?"_

_He looked startled. "If it were, I'd think you would have to know."_

_Yeah. Yeah, I would think so too. But I didn't. I was thirteen, and he was fourteen, and we weren't supposed to understand these things yet! The question was not whether I loved him, we were like brothers, the question was, was it _that_ kind of love... "I don't _know_. But I don't think so."_

_He nodded. "Neither do I."_

_We just sat there for a long moment. So little spoken, so much said. Finally, he stood up. "C'mon, we're only going to escalate things if we stay out here all night."_

_"Yeah," I agreed. "Let's go."_

_He gave me a quick hug, then started towards the tent he was in._

_"Hey, Banks?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_I cracked a mischievous grin. "G'night. Love ya."_

_We both laughed all the way back to our tents._   
~~~~~ 

Those days are long gone... we can never be quite the same. It was fun while it lasted. Hell, we even encouraged the rumors, we thought it was funny. I still remember laughing at how shocked everyone looked this year when I told them I had a _girl_friend. 

As for Banks, well, I don't know. He might be falling for Rat. Or maybe there's something else. In any case, a couple days ago he asked Linda if Rat has a boyfriend. 

Yet he looked relieved when she said yes. 

Luis and that cheerleader, Mindy, broke up. So he's back to chasing someone new every five minutes. Guy and Connie had a big fight near the beginning of the year, but they made up and they're back together again. Nobody else is looking for relationships, at least, not actively. 

Except, there's Julie's boyfriend. I don't see why she keeps trying to hide it. Scooter's the one sign that there _is_ hope for Varsity, after all. But Julie doesn't want us to know. Then again, after the thing with Banksie, maybe she's got the right idea. What I really don't get is why she won't admit it _to_ _Scooter_ either. 

Ken, who's been playing intel officer for awhile now, reports tensions in the Varsity ranks. Something tells me it's related to their goalie's romance. 

_"CHARLIE!"_

Oooops. Locker rooms aren't the best places to space out. Julie is standing in front of me, looking a little annoyed. Adam is behind her. "Uh... yeah?" 

"I was _asking_ if you and Adam wanted to go to the soccer game tonight," she repeats. "Since you know Rat..." Banksie does not look thrilled at the idea, but I think it would be fun. Even though I (still) know next to nothing about soccer. 

I glance at my watch. 6:30. I guess there's time to fit a soccer game in. "Sure, why not?" 

"Why not? How many reasons would you like?" Adam mutters, but Julie's grinning. No backing out now, and he knows it, so he'll come quietly, though I expect I'll be in for it at practice tomorrow. 

We head out. 

***** 

The Inferno gave the Morris Pirates a severe beating, 6-1. Or at least I assume that's pretty severe. Julie told us that soccer games score about like hockey games. 

In fact, Julie told us a lot. Seems she knows plenty about the sport. We learned that Rat is the Inferno's starting sweeper, which is a defense position way in the backfield. (She didn't have much to do today.) We also learned the difference between goal kicks and corner kicks and how/why they happen, then Adam said in no uncertain terms he'd learned enough for the day. 

He was busy watching Rat. 

As we walk back to the dorms, I find myself lost in thought again. He _is_ falling for her, whether he likes it or not. On second thought, it might be better to say whether he _knows_ it or not. But I think that's a good thing, for him not to know. After all... she's taken, and he _does_ know that. 

Damn. That means this could get messy. Banks doesn't need to get hurt again, and I know enough about Rat that I'm sure she doesn't _want_ to hurt him. I want to know about this other guy, though. 

"Hey! Cat, Adam, Charlie!" 

We pause. Rat's running over to us, grinning. "Cat, did you forget about me?" 

Julie shakes her head. "I figured you would just show up. do you need me to wait?" 

"Nah, I'm ready to go." She sighs. "Well, ready as I can be for a study session." 

"You guys are _studying_ on a _weekend?_" I ask, pretending to be horrified. It doesn't really come as much of a surprise for our model student goalie to be studying when she doesn't have to, but I can't help a jab at her habits. "When you could be up all night partying?" 

"We _are_ partying," Rat answers promptly. "As soon as we finish studying." 

As we head off, I notice the Warrior soccer bus has arrived and the team's unloading. They must have been at their own game. One of the players, a young man with pale blond hair, catches sight of us. He looks less than thrilled. 

No, correction. He looks _pissed_. For some reason I've got a bad feeling about this. 

***** 

Julie and Rat left us and entered the Cat's dorm. 

"They've got the right idea. We should have a party," I suggest after they leave. 

Banksie gives me a _look_. "Isn't it a bit late to send out invites?" 

"So we'll have just you, me, and Guy." Guy doesn't know about this, of course, but I doubt he'll object. And if he does... well... he'll do it anyway. 

"Fine," he consents. "But what are we planning to do at this party? We can't exactly go rent movies now, the only reason they're not busting us for being out past curfew is that we look like we're heading back from the soccer game. In about 5 minutes we won't be able to use that excuse anymore." 

He has a point, but I'm not letting him get out of it that easy. There is one other option. Guy has a thing for board games, and brought a lot of them with him. "We have a Monopoly marathon. We can stay up all night if we have to, Coach gave us tomorrow off, remember?" 

We enter the building. "Monopoly? Maybe..." He frowns, and considers this for a moment. But he's so busy with our conversation he doesn't notice we're already right outside my room. So it's a pretty simple matter to drag him in. 

Guy puts down the history book he was studying from—or pretending to study from—and looks at me. "Charlie, you do know it's against the law to force people into involuntary servitude, right?" 

"What involuntary?" I demand, as innocently as I can. "He came in here of his own free will, and he's gonna play Monopoly with us and he's gonna like it." 

Guy gets the idea, and goes to the closet to hunt down the game. Banks, being the smart Duck that he is, sits on my bed and sighs resignedly. Something tells me he's worried about getting in trouble. He won't. I can't count the times a Duck or two (or six) have wound up in the wrong room all night. Nobody cares as long as we stay there and don't go wandering around campus. 

"I'm banker," Guy informs us as he comes up with the Monopoly board. 

"Who made you boss?" 

He glares at me. "My game, my call." 

Good point. "You win." 

***** 

At one in the afternoon, I get rudely woken up by a bright light shining directly in my eyes. Damn dorms and their damn windows. 

Guy is still asleep, as his bed isn't right in the sunlight's path. _Lucky_. Banks is curled up on the floor next to my bed, with a spare blanket tossed over him. He looks so peaceful when he's asleep. So _happy_... it's hard to recognize him, as little as I see him happy anymore. 

He stirs, and looks at me through sleepy blue eyes. "What're you staring at, Conway? Go back to sleep." 

"I think it's too late for that. You realize we've slept through a whole hour of the afternoon?" 

"So?" 

I briefly consider pushing my mattress onto his head, but decide that might be more harm than it's worth. "Fine. _You_ stay asleep if you like, but I'm getting Mr. Hotel-On-Boardwalk up. And I mean _up_." He watches, interested, as I cross over to Guy's bed. 

I learned more than hockey from Coach Bombay. 

Guy yells out a long and colorful string of profanity as I dump him and his mattress onto the floor. "Charlie! What the hell was that for!" 

"Time to wake up," I answer simply. Banks snickers. 

"It's Sunday, isn't it?" he snaps back, dragging himself off the floor. "Haven't you guys got a pickup soccer game to go play in?" 

"Only if you come with us." That shuts him up. 

We decide to finish our game, which we gave up on around 6 in the morning. Guy was winning, and sadly, things haven't miraculously changed overnight. But before we can get started somebody knocks on the door. 

It's Max. We aren't friends, by a long shot, but we get along well enough that he's okay with showing up sometimes. Especially because he knows that if he's looking for his roommate, this should be stop number 1. "Hey, Charlie. Is Banks here?" 

Hearing his name, Adam glances up. "Something wrong?" 

"Not really. But some guy named Jay showed up about an hour ago, asking about you, and I was in the neighborhood so I thought I'd drop by and let you know." He leaves. 

We exchange curious glances. "Anyone you know?" Guy asks. 

"No..." 

I refrain from comment, but I have a bad feeling about this. Linda's mentioned someone named Jay once before. And she was talking about Rat. My thoughts drift back to the guy who was watching us after the soccer game. 

This could be a problem. 

***** 

_More A/N- the thing with Ken and Russ is going nowhere, I just felt like doing something unexpected. *shrugs* This chapter somehow got really long without me realizing it. It must have been Charlie's fault..._


	8. Love Hurts

**Second Time Around**   
Chapter 8: Love Hurts 

_A/N- Ugh. School is getting in the way, so chapter 9 could be awhile in coming. >_ But this is a long one, so that kinda makes up for it. ^_^ A bit faster paced this time. Adam's POV._

***** 

I was genuinely intending to get in some hockey practice. So why am I heading for the soccer field? 

Get a grip, Banks. Rat's taken. You do _not_ want to play soccer. You have a game at Morris High in three days, and they're tough. You need to practice. You don't have _time_ to go watch soccer. 

I don't get it. Rat and I have spoken twice, for all of ten minutes total, and I feel like we're best friends. Or we should be. 

Charlie warned me when I was leaving his room, though, that I could be getting myself in trouble. This guy that was looking for me earlier... Jay... is Rat's boyfriend. I somehow doubt he just dropped by to say hello. 

When I reach the field and drop onto the grass, the first thing I notice is that there are a lot more people than usual. Several people in red and blue practice jerseys are standing on the sidelines. Rat is one of them. 

She comes over to me almost immediately. "Hey. Change your mind about playing?" 

"_No_." 

"Oh. Well that's okay, you probably wouldn't get in much anyhow." She sighs. "Usually the Warriors have their own game on Sundays, and they don't bother us. But they had their game last night so we're overcrowded today." 

Good, I have an excuse. I wasn't looking forward to a repeat experience of last week. Now that she's available for conversation, I guess I might as well ask her... "So where's Jay?" 

She looks startled. "You've met??" 

"No, but my roommate says he tried to visit earlier." 

If looks could kill... "Figures. You don't want him to find you. He's in serious Jealous Boyfriend Mode for some reason. I guess I'm not allowed to talk to any guys who aren't either taken or on my team... But that's him, the blue keeper." 

Keeper? Oh, right. Julie told us that in soccer, they call the goalie the 'keeper' for some unfathomable reason. 

The blue keeper is paying less attention to keeping and more attention to glaring at us. More specifically, glaring at me. Rat notices, and scowls. Man... I can cause an awful lot of trouble without even trying, can't I? Real good, Banks. 

Right around then, Jay gets replaced with one of the other blue players. I decide I'd better leave. 

"Hey, whoa! Where're you going?" Rat demands. 

"I've got homework to do... bye!" I take off. The last thing I need is to be mistaken for _competition_ by a bad-tempered soccer player. 

***** 

Two hours later, I've succeeded in BS'ing my way through yet another English essay and a really odd assignment on plant cells. I'm bored senseless. 5 p.m... the game's probably still going, but that doesn't mean Rat's there, and I'm really not in the mood to dodge her boyfriend just to have a conversation with her anyway. 

I think about Jay for a minute. Honestly, I don't think I would like him even if he weren't out for my blood. He just rubs me the wrong way, somehow. Really strange. And that's without even _meeting_ him! 

What was he doing here earlier, anyway, hoping I'd be available to get beat up? He doesn't need to worry about that, Varsity'll do it for him soon enough. I haven't been their chosen target for awhile, sure, but it's only a matter of time... 

Someone knocks on the door. Great. With my luck, that'll be Jay. Hopefully he'll say hello first and throw punches later. How did I get into this mess? Right, I got assigned to Varsity, was lonely, and had nothing better to do than watch soccer practices. 

Lovely. 

Whoever's out there knocks again. "I'm coming already!" I yank the door open. 

Scooter grins at me. "Hey. You want to play some one on one? Julie was busy, and told me you would be the most likely Duck to accept." 

And Julie's right. But why doesn't he go play with one of his own teammates? Hell with the questions, I'm not about to go and pass up an opportunity to play hockey. 

***** 

"You and Julie play often?" 

He shoots, but it goes wide of the goal. I guess goalies don't get much practice at shooting, though they don't do much skating either and he's _good_ at that. (Which I didn't expect, I got too used to Goldberg.) And I don't know many other people who could, let alone would, have a conversation and a hockey game at the same time. 

"Once a week or so. Wish you'd see it. I can't aim, she can't skate, and neither of us are any good at trying to block shots with these shooting sticks..." He trails off as I blast a slap shot from center ice, which bounces off the crossbar and over the boards. "Oh, that was nice." 

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up and help me find it." We head off the ice to look for the puck. 

"So how goes it with Rat?" 

I let out a strangled yelp. "_What?_ How do _you_ know about her?" People are really blowing this out of proportion, sure, but I definitely didn't expect it to get as far as Varsity. Ugh. Now if she were really my girlfriend, I wouldn't mind so much, but she's hardly even my friend! I believe the term is 'acquaintance'? _She's_ the one that's been taking an interest in _me_, after all. 

"Calm down," he laughs, holding up the puck and tossing it back on the ice. "I study with Julie, and Rat's been coming too lately. Julie's been teasing her about you. Something about _she_ never gets invited to play soccer..." He checks me, grabs the puck, and slams it into the net. "Three-four." 

"Julie doesn't get to play soccer because Rat doesn't want her dead," I mutter as we face off. I win it, spin around him, and race down the ice for an easy goal. "Five-three. I do _not_ like the crazy soccer player. We're just... friends." Did I just say Rat's my friend? I thought I just decided we were 'acquaintances'? How'd I let that slip? "What's up with you and Cat-lady, though? You expect me to believe you only _study_ together?" 

That startles him enough for me to steal the puck, but my shot doesn't quite reach the goal. "What do you mean by that?" 

"We spy on you Warriors as much as you spy on us." He retrieves the puck and brings it up the ice. "You're making yourself pretty unpopular with the rest of your team. Does it happen to have anything to do with our goalie?" 

He tries to fake me out, but ends up falling down. I can't help laughing as I help him up. "Shut up, you'd fall down too if you were used to balancing in goalie pads. And find a better spy, there's nothing wrong between me and the rest of the Warriors." I give him a disbelieving look. From the time I was on their team, I know that there was always _something_ wrong between Scooter and the rest of Varsity. He gets the idea. "Okay, no more than usual." 

"So why aren't you playing with one of them? Why look for a Duck?" 

Point for me. He sighs. "All right, so I really just wanted to talk to you. About Julie." He tracks down the puck and fires it hard enough to make one of Fulton's cannon shots look tame. I'm not about to go diving in front of that one. "Four-five. Game over, you win." 

Even with his helmet in the way I can tell he's uncomfortable. "Fair enough. Let's get off the ice." 

***** 

We found a nice, isolated corner in the cafeteria. It's about 7, which is relatively late, but there are still enough people that nobody notices us. 

For awhile we just sit there, not saying anything. I wonder, for a minute, just why Scooter decided to come to _me_ of all the Ducks. Stupid question. We bonded somewhat while I was on Varsity... the two that weren't quite 'real' Warriors. Great. 

_I felt uncomfortable, sitting there with people I didn't know or like, watching the team I should've been on play without me. What a mess. But that didn't stop me from jumping up and clapping when the Ducks—right, the Warriors—made their first goal._

_Riley yanked me back down. "_We_ do not cheer for JV losers."_

_Yeah, I should've expected as much. Go school spirit._

_Scooter, who was sitting next to me, glanced over and sighed. "Rick, lay off a bit. It's his first game." He turned and offered me a sympathetic grimace. "Don't let him get to you. But don't cheer if you value your life. Speaking from experience."_

_"Thanks for the warning..." I think._

_"Any time. You'll learn how things work around here sooner or later. Until then, if they get on your case, let me know and I'll see if I can get them to back off."_

_At least _one_ Varsity jock wasn't so bad._

The silence is getting uncomfortable. "So what's up?" 

"Does Julie have a boyfriend?" he asks abruptly. 

Um... okay, didn't expect that at all. "Isn't that you?" 

"I don't know." He sighs. "I told you before. All we do is study. And we don't even do that alone anymore, she's gone on a crusade to get Rat back to a C average so she can play on the Warrior soccer team. We've sat together at dinner all of twice, and she's not showing any interest in taking it further. Yeah, we're _solid_." 

He's got a point there. 

"Well, as far as any of us know, she's not taken. We assumed she was with you." 

This earns me a weak smile. Good, at least I've been some use to someone today. But any trace of contentment about that vanishes as my new least favorite person in the school walks into the cafeteria. 

Jay walks right up to us and gives us a wonderful false smile. "Scooter, lovely to see you." He turns to me. "Adam Banks, isn't it?" 

I consider denying it. I know Scooter would be happy to go along with it; judging from his expression, he likes Jay about as much as I do. "Yeah, that's me..." Why did I say that? (Because I don't know when to keep my mouth shut.) 

The fake smile gets wider. "So nice to meet you. Tell me, Adam... how are things going with you and Rat?" 

He doesn't dare start a fight here, or Scooter'll have all of Varsity on his ass. Just because he's not way too popular right now with his team doesn't mean they won't stick together in front of an outside threat. Soccer players are outside threats. So, against my better judgement, I allow a little sarcasm to seep into my voice. "Things are going fine. I've been looking forward to meeting you." _Yeah right_. "She's told me a lot of nice things about you." She's said nothing of the sort, of course, she's usually complaining. But it's probably best if he doesn't know that. 

I don't think he's buying it. That smile's so obviously fake I'd like nothing better than to smack it right off his face. "Oh really. Good to hear." And he leaves. 

Scooter gives me a worried look. "Adam... be careful. Jay's trouble, and nothing but. He'll probably jump you on your way back to your room just out of spite." 

"So?" Let him. Bet Rat'll be thrilled then. 

***** 

Scooter wasn't kidding. Jay was waiting for me outside my room. "Now that we're alone, we can finish our conversation." He's wearing a real smile this time. I think that worries me. 

"I have nothing to say to you." 

Ooh, _bad_ idea, Banks. He looks about ready to hit me, but reconsiders. I can tell he's trying to judge where the advantage is—I'm a lot taller than him, but he's probably a little stronger. 

While he's busy, he settles for scowling, "Then I'll talk and you'll listen." 

I consider just shoving past him and going in, but think better of it. I'm not going to get in a fight. Well, I'm not going to _start_ a fight... but if he starts it I'll quite happily finish it. "I'm listening. For now." 

"It's really pretty simple. You stay away from my girl, I don't bother you anymore. Fair enough, Duck?" 

Why does everyone always try to use Duck as a demeaning term? (Wait... I know this one, I've heard it before. Something about a bunch of mallards quacking around with sticks.) 

"Don't tell me what to do. Do you just go chasing anyone she says hello to? Because I'm _not_ competition. But if you don't stop being so overprotective, don't blame me when she gets ticked off." Where did that come from? Damn... that made it sound an awful lot like I _am_ competing with him. 

Which might be why he punched me as soon as I said it. Well if he wants to fight... I slam him into the wall. He pulls himself free and throws another punch, but this time I'm expecting it and dodge. He loses his balance and falls flat on his face. 

Before I can do anything else, Max opens the door. "There a problem out here?" 

"Absolutely not," Jay assures him. "I was just leaving." He races off so fast you'd think someone had shot at him. It makes sense. All of the sports teams at Eden Hall have reputations. Varsity hockey's a bunch of bullies. JV hockey's a bunch of psychos. Soccer players, particularly the Inferno, are absolutely _militant_ about being unique. 

Football players are generally nice, but if you piss them off, _watch out!_

"What was that about?" Max inquires as I drop onto my bed. 

"He thinks I'm after his girlfriend. Which is stupid. We've talked three times. For a total of fifteen minutes." Usually I wouldn't have let that out, but right now I'm too tired to care. Today's been way too confusing. I just want to go to sleep. Better to just answer the questions, get them over with. 

Surprisingly, he laughs. "But you consider her a friend?" 

"Yeah." I'm even too tired to contradict myself for that. So we haven't talked much. When we do talk, I enjoy it, even if I usually don't admit it to myself. We're friends. 

"That's your problem, then." 

"Eh?" 

"I've seen this before, and he seems the right type for it. Since you don't talk to this girl much, it makes him suspicious that you're hiding something, even when you're not. You should spend more time with her. He'll figure you aren't stupid enough to be that obvious if you're trying to steal her, so you _must_ only be friends." 

Wow. That's got to be the most logical thing I've heard all day. Maybe he's onto something. But that means I have to let her get closer. And despite my earlier promise, I'm not sure I'm really willing to do that. 

I'm still considering it as I try to go to sleep. Maybe he's right. Everyone's right. I'm not in love, I'm just trying to be her friend and trying to keep her away at the same time, which is stupid. Jay's not jealous, just suspicious. And all of that can be fixed. A lot of the knot that's been tying itself in my stomach finally loosens up, leaving me with only one major problem. 

What I really need is more stress. It _had_ to happen right before the playoffs. 


	9. Getting Closer

**Second Time Around**   
Chapter 9: Getting Closer 

_A/N- I know, I said school was in the way and this would take a long time, but I had a bit too much caffeine and somehow wrote half of it at 4 a.m. -_-' I've got no clue what movies would've been playing at the time of this fic, so I just kinda left that part out... oops. Rat's POV_

***** 

I'm going to kill Jay, if he doesn't kill me first. 

I'm going to kill him because of that stunt he pulled yesterday. Where does he get off? How many times do I have to tell him that Adam's just a friend? 

He's going to kill me for several reasons. One, I was talking to Adam during the Warrior practice today. And for more than a five minute stretch this time. Two, he asked if I wanted to go to a movie with him tomorrow. (_Not_ a date, he assured me. But Charlie's busy and he doesn't want to go by himself.) Third, I accepted. Why not? He needs a friend, and I'm it. 

~~~~~   
_"Hey."_

_Adam glanced at me. "Oh... hi." He looked exhausted._

_"Something wrong?"_

_"Not really, except yesterday was the most confusing day of my life and I'm still recovering. Your boyfriend tried to kill me."_

_"Don't take it personally." I knew, of course, that he wouldn't buy it, that Jay's going after him could be nothing but personal, but that was okay. I'd set him straight and it would be no big deal. "Why do you always come here instead of hanging out with the rest of the Ducks, anyway?"_

_"They've got their own groups and I'm not in any of them." He didn't sound especially bitter about that. Simple statement of the fact._

_We sat there for a little while, making idle conversation. "Why does the soccer team have a special team for people who don't make the grading rules, when none of the other teams do?" he inquired after a bit._

_"Because soccer's almost as big at Eden Hall as hockey is. So soccer gets preferential treatment and hockey gets even preferential-er treatment." It was one of the things that really irritated me about the school. Anything to win! "If you're a soccer player and your grades suck, they put you on the Inferno. If you're a hockey player and your grades suck, they do some creative editing somewhere along the line and the official-types who could make you academically ineligible never find out. Either way you get stuck in tutoring sessions, but that's it."_

_"So that's how Cole's still allowed to play." He shook his head. "Typical."_

_"Everybody knows about it, but nobody's willing to call _Eden Hall_ on breaking the rules. Admittedly, I'm a little biased in favor of the program since it means I still get to play."_

_"Scooter says you're studying with him and Julie."_

_"Yeah, I hang with the lovebirds. Occasionally." Going to Scooter and Julie's study sessions has to be the best thing that's ever happened to me. Though I'll certainly never get anything _above_ a C in English._

_"Somebody needs to figure out a way to get those two on a real date."_

_I laughed. "Not me, matchmaking's just not my thing."_

_We trailed off for a bit, just watching the Warriors practice. He was being a lot friendlier today, and I wondered if it had anything to do with Jay. Who was, naturally, glaring at us every free second he got._

_Adam kept glancing at me, uncomfortably. "What?" I finally asked. "Afraid I'm gonna bite you?"_

_"No..." He sighed. "Charlie and I were planning to go to a movie tomorrow, then he remembered he has a date, so I'm stuck going by myself, and going to movies alone is boring. So I was wondering if you wanted to come..."_

_I laughed. I couldn't help it. The last time I'd heard anyone so nervous it was Darryl Ritter, captain of the Inferno, when he got caught putting thumbtacks on Mrs. Madigan's chair. "Sure, why not. What movie?"_   
~~~~~ 

Yeah... Jay would be furious. That's okay, he doesn't own me. And he's busy tomorrow anyway, the Warriors have a game at Blake. So he doesn't have to know. And it really is none of his business. It's not like it's a date or anything. 

***** 

I pulled off acting normal for the rest of Monday and all of today so far. Good. I won't see Jay again tonight. As long as I don't do something stupid tomorrow, that means he doesn't have to know I actually have a social life beyond him. The moment I think that, I feel bad. He's really very tolerant... coming back to those 16 guys on the Inferno squad. But he still gets on my nerves sometimes. 

Sure enough, nothing whatsoever happened at the movie. Nothing! Well, okay, I laughed too much and almost choked on an ice cube and he got all concerned. That was it. See, I knew it wasn't a date. Though we did talk through a lot of it, it was mostly just casual discussion. 

The real fun was when we were walking back to campus. 

"You've got a game tomorrow, don't you?" 

"Yeah. Morris. They have a _good_ hockey team. They're third in the league." 

I remember how badly we beat their soccer team, and laugh. "Everybody has their moments. When do playoffs start?" 

"Next weekend. We've got two more games. The one tomorrow, then we play Taylor Falls again this weekend. I don't want to know what happens during the week off. Coach already has us practicing three hours a day." He sighs. 

"You don't like your coach much, do you?" 

He looks startled. "Where'd that come from?" 

I don't answer. Actually, I went to their practice today, looking for Julie to tell her I couldn't make the study session. Their coach asked Adam to stay on the ice a minute. Whatever he said, it couldn't have been good. Not the way he stormed off the ice. But I don't want him to know I saw that, so I just make up something. "I was just curious. I know I wouldn't like a coach that made me practice three hours a day." 

"Well, I _don't_ like him," he admits. "But it's not because of the practices." 

He acts like that settles it. 

"Elaborate?" 

Long pause. I remember how Charlie tracked me down Sunday afternoon, and warned me that if I managed to earn Adam's trust, I'd better not hurt him. Or I'd really be in for it. 

_If you, somehow, actually manage to get him to trust you._

I guess his trust is not lightly given. Maybe I shouldn't have asked him to explain, I don't want to bring anything bad up. But he finally answers me. "He assigned me to Varsity at the beginning of the year." 

I'm not one of the ones that's in awe of the Varsity 10-time-champ hockey team. I'm not stupid enough to ask, "Well isn't that good?" In that sentence I finally begin to understand why he looks so sad, so often. 

One, I know Adam. He doesn't have many close friends. The Ducks are his only friends. So his only close friends are also Ducks. 

Two, I know Varsity. (Pity.) They can't have one of their own associating with the JV team, of all groups! It would tarnish their reputation horribly. They would do anything to get him to stay away from them. 

Three, I know the Ducks, sort of. From the assembly that we all had to go to, I know the Ducks have been playing together for a long time. Adam's friends on the Ducks should've tried to _stay_ friends with him. 

Did they? I doubt it, from what information I've been able to pick up. That explains why he won't trust people, after all. Emotional scarring. And he hasn't yet recovered. 

I feel bad for bringing it up. "Sorry..." 

"Don't be." He sighs. "It's okay now, anyway." 

But I know it isn't. I've always been good at reading people's moods, even when they try so hard to hide them. For a minute, I wonder if there's something he isn't telling me. I can ask later. 

We walk the rest of the way in silence. But when we split paths, he does something I've never seen before. 

He actually smiles. 

***** 

"Conway with it, across the blue line, beats one defender. Puck stolen by Harley of the Pirates. Checked by Portman. It's getting rough out there..." 

"Yeah, sounds it," Jay mutters. I made him listen to the hockey game with me as part of his punishment for going after Adam, since he told me he _hates_ hockey. He actually seems to be enjoying it, though. Not much of a punishment, but not necessarily a bad thing either. 

"Banks shoots from center ice, stick save by Carthridge. Oakes with it, into the Duck zone, has it taken by Wu. Wu up to Reed, across the blue line, back to Wu, he shoots, he scores!" 

We high-five. The Ducks have it tied now, near the end of the second period. I'm still trying to get used to the idea of a game that's three periods long. Three! That's a weird number. 

At the end of the second period, it's still tied. I take advantage of the break. "So Jay, just what _is_ your problem with Adam, anyway? 

"What's _your_ _interest_ in him?" 

Grr. He wants me to answer that? "He's just a friend. Like the rest of the Inferno, and Scooter, and Charlie." 

"Yeah, but Charlie and Scooter already have girlfriends—and you know I don't like them much either, anyway—and the rest of your team is... well, they're just that, your team! You don't even spend all that much time with them outside of practice, games, and tutoring." 

"I don't spend that much time with Adam, either." 

He sighed. "But you don't have to spend _any_ time with him. And the way you keep denying it so quickly..." 

I don't know if that makes sense or not, so I don't think about it. Poor Adam. He knows he's causing trouble, and he's probably blaming himself. Not his fault. I was the one who decided I should try to be friends with him, after all. 

Not that I think it's hurt him. And it probably won't, as if _I_ can handle Jay, I don't think he's much threat to a hockey player. Still. "I wish you'd try to get along with him." 

He sighs. "I'll give it a try. But no promises. He doesn't exactly like me much, either." 

"Wonder why?" 

The game begins again before we can continue our talk, but if Jay says he'll try to be nice, he'll try to be nice. Because he knows he's in for a thrashing if he doesn't. (Is this starting to sound like an abusive relationship? It really isn't, I've never had any reason to beat him up. Yet. He's just aware that I _can_.) 

"Conway gets it back to Averman, into the Eden Hall zone but the Ducks can't clear it. Shot by Oakes, Gaffney saves it and passes it up to Banks. Banks, to Conway, he fakes, back to Banks, fakes, shoots, scores!" 

Jay raises his eyebrows. "That was quick. Your friend must be pretty good." 

Yeah, Adam is good. He told me why. He's got nothing to do but practice. 

***** 

"One minute to go, score tied at two. The Pirates have the power play with Mendoza of the Ducks out for boarding..." 

Adam says Coach Orion has been complaining about that a lot lately. (Complaining about Mendoza or complaining about the refs, it alternates.) It's not that Luis is _trying_ to smash into them, he just can't stop in time to avoid it. And they tend to call him on it. (I don't know what boarding _is_, of course, so this only makes limited sense, but "refs suck" is sort of universal sports language.) Hockey refs, I guess, are like soccer refs, and only call the things that nobody wants them to call. 

Jay is actually standing and pacing, which he only does when he's extremely nervous. "Don't tell me you're enjoying the game. You hate hockey, remember?" 

"What I say at the beginning of the game is never what I meant by the end of the game," he mutters. But he sits down. 

"Pierce wins the faceoff, passes to Kemper—intercepted by Banks, Banks passes it back to Robertson, up to Portman on the left wing. Hollis checks Portman hard, Pirates with the puck. Reed takes it, skates around a check by Harley, passes to Robertson, shot saved by Carthridge. Kemper drives it into the Duck zone, Gaffney cuts it off." 

I'm getting a little nervous too. This is an important game, I know that much, and a win would be _so_ much better for the Ducks than a tie... obviously. 

"Banks checked hard, Reed gets the puck. Reed winding up... Pierce takes it, shoots, glove save by Gaffney. Five seconds. Robertson gets the puck, passes to Portman, shoots from the Duck zone—SCORE! No time left! The Ducks have won it!" 

"YES!" Jay screams, leaping off his bed and punching the air. I give him a very odd look. "Uhhh... oops?" 

"Yeah, I think so. Oops. You who hates hockey." He scowls, but I know I've won this round. "Come on. Game's over, now let's go practice." I grab his soccer ball and practically drag him out of the dorm. What he doesn't know is that the hockey team should be back here in an hour, more or less. (The ride from Morris is about half an hour.) And we're going to congratulate them when they get back. 

And he's gonna like it. 


	10. One Duck Down

**Second Time Around**   
Chapter 10: One Duck Down 

_A/N- Chapter 11's almost entirely written, all I have to do is type it, so it should be up later tonight. ^_^ Hexen and Heretic belong to id Software, I think. Charlie's POV_

***** 

Everybody else is still celebrating when we get back to campus. Not me. It's not that I'm not happy to have won the game. I couldn't be more thrilled. It's just... the coughing fits are starting to worry me. 

It started after the game. It was raining when we got there... I didn't bother to dry off before we got on the ice. A little water couldn't hurt, right? And I didn't think twice when I coughed a little. But now I'm starting to think I might really be getting sick. This is _not_ the right time to come down with something. 

Banksie, sitting next to me, frowns. He's spent most of the ride in an argument with Portman about whether Hexen is better than Heretic, but that doesn't mean he can't tell when I'm not doing so hot. "Charlie... you okay?" 

"Fine," I lie. 

He doesn't believe it, I can tell, but anything he might say is cut off as the bus unloads. Sports busses always stop in the middle of the athletics block, right next to the soccer field. Rat and Jay are on the field. She's shooting and he's trying to save—mostly unsuccessfully. 

Their practice comes to a halt as we all get off the bus, and Rat pounces on Julie. "That was incredible! Way to go!" 

Jay approaches Banks and me, looking a little nervous. Not that I quite blame him, Adam doesn't exactly look pleased about the arrangement. "Hey," he says cautiously. He sounds as tense as he looks. "Rat kind of dragged me out here... I didn't know you guys would show up... but..." He gives a resolute sigh and looks straight at Adam. "Sorry I went after you Sunday." And he sounds like he means it. 

Adam gives me a look that clearly says 'did I just hear that?' I shrug. 

Before anyone has a chance to say anything else, Rat comes over. "That was terrific, you guys!" 

"Thanks," I grin. Banks just shakes his head looking dazed. She seems to find that funny. 

Then, out of the blue, that stupid soccer player comes up with, "Hey Charlie, are you okay? You look a little pale." 

Damn her. Why do people always have to be observant at the wrong times? I shrug it off. "Yeah, I'm fine. Playing in a game like that would've stressed _you_ out, too." 

She and Banks give me identical concerned stares. 

***** 

The next week went by in a blur. We beat Taylor Falls, 1-0, and received the second seed in the playoffs. Our first game is against the seventh-seeded Lakes Academy Kingfishers. They should be pushovers, we didn't have any competition from them either time during the season. On second thought, since they're seeded lower, league rules say we play on their rink. Not good to underestimate a team on their home ice. 

The entire team wound up in detention Monday, Mrs. Madigan got a bit (okay, more than a bit) _touchy_ when none of us could concentrate on chloroplasts. (We did not, however, give in to the temptation to quack at her.) And Mrs. Delaney finally gave up and told us that if we could pay attention for the rest of the week, she wouldn't make us do anything Friday. 

It's Thursday afternoon, and we pulled it off. 

Unfortunately, all actions require an equal and opposite reaction. And to make up for the disproportionate amount of _good_ stuff that's happened this week, I've been feeling way beyond lousy. The three-hour practices aren't helping a bit. Everyone keeps telling me I should go see a doctor, but no way! After we win the quarterfinals, and we've got a week to rest up until the semis, _then_ I'll have time to worry about my health. Right now it's the game that's important. 

Unfortunately, Coach disagrees. He calls me over after practice, and he doesn't look too happy. 

"Conway, you're a little slow out there. And you haven't been acting like yourself lately. Are you feeling all right?" 

"Yeah, fine." It sounds very convincing except for the cough that comes out with it. 

"Fine," he repeats. "Well then if you don't mind, I'd like you to go get a checkup. And the sooner you do, the sooner you'll be allowed to play again." 

_What?_ I storm off the ice in a terrific impression of the huffs Banksie's been leaving in lately. He can't stop me from playing! I _have_ to play! Maybe I am a little under the weather, it doesn't mean it's interfering with my game! 

I repeat my tirade to Banks about fifteen minutes later, as we leave the locker room. He raises his eyebrows. "You think you're fooling anyone? Besides, if you're coming down with something, it's better to catch it before it gets serious." 

This earns him a deeply resentful glare. "Banks, do you remember when a certain Duck whom we all know and love busted his wrist at the Jr. Goodwill Games? Do you remember talking to me the night after Coach Bombay benched you?" I drop my voice a bit, pulling off a near-passable impression of him. "But I have to play! The scouts are here! This was my shot! And what'll Dad say? What am I supposed to do now, I—" 

He cuts me off. "Charlie, there are wonderful things in this world called double standards." 

I'm not going to dignify that with a response. But fine. I'll go to the doctor tomorrow morning. They'll see. There'll be nothing wrong with me. Nothing. 

***** 

When the morning comes, even I have to admit I was wrong. It feels like there's a brick stuck in my chest. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding," I groan, barely managing to drag myself out of bed. 

Guy looks at me, concerned. "You gonna make it? I could get the campus doctor to come here, if you think you need it..." 

I feel too bad to let my pride get in my way. "Sure." 

The doctor shows up about ten minutes later, which means Guy _ran_ all across campus to get him and made _him_ run all across campus to get here. It doesn't take him very long to make his diagnosis. 

"Son, you've got pneumonia. I'll get you a prescription, and you're going to have to stay in bed for at least a week." 

No. He can't be serious. He can't _possibly_ be serious. "But I've got a game tomorrow!" 

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry. But you've got to rest." 

As soon as he leaves, Banksie rushes in. Of course. Guy _would've_ gone running to him. Is he going to give me another double standard lecture? 

"Charlie..." He just shakes his head. But I don't need him to speak. His eyes tell the story. For a second, I see the old sympathy, the old concern. The old compassion. The way he looked when we were so close. Close enough that nothing could come between us, that we could run to each other to talk without a second thought. 

So different now. But still... some traces of it remain. 

"What are we going to do, Banks?" I ask. It doesn't happen often, but even the leader of the Ducks needs reassurance now and then. "What if we lose? I'll never forgive myself for this... I was so stupid! You guys were right, I should've gone to a doctor, should've done something..." 

"Charlie, it's okay." Am I supposed to believe that? "We're not going to lose. We'll pull it off. Somehow..." He's clearly not as confident as he wants me to believe, but I've got to give him credit for trying. 

I can tell what he's thinking. I know it sounds conceited, but it's true—the Ducks really have no guidance without me. We had Jesse, but he's in Colorado. Banks isn't leadership material, so he says, though I've never seen him _try_ to lead so I wouldn't know for sure. Russ is the next one who comes to mind, and he could probably do a fair job at it, but it would take some getting used to. I can't think of anyone else who might plausibly take or be given the job. 

This will be a test for the team. And this will be a test for Coach Orion, too. I only hope we can handle it. While Banks is still there, I slip into unconsciousness. 

***** 

Linda comes in after school. "Ohhhh... Charlie, are you feeling any better?" And she immediately starts into one of those patented girlfriend-doting-fits that I've been lucky enough to avoid for most of the time we've been together. 

"Linda, you're not going to help me by suffocating me," I mutter. "Just tell me what's been going on. Have I missed anything interesting?" 

She frowns. "Interesting and school never used to go together in your vocabulary." 

"They still don't. You've _got_ to learn to gossip." 

That earns me a laugh, if nothing else. "Supposedly Cole got suspended for punching out a freshman. And Griffian—" 

Pneumonia or not, I can still have a sense of humor. "Linda, repeat after me. Rat." 

She scowls. 

"Come on, you can do it. Say Rat." Of course I know from Banks that Rat has tried this before, frequently. But _I've_ got a boyfriend-specific advantage. _I'm_ a sick boyfriend. (Hey, that's about as boyfriend-specific as they come.) 

"Did she put you up to this?" 

"Not really. You're changing the subject." Another scowl. "Come on, Linda... it would make me feel so much better..." I gave her the puppy-dog eyes. 

Never fails. "Fine! You win. _Rat_ decided to mediate between Adam and Jay. They found out they both like disaster movies and bailed on her to go watch Volcano. She's either very mad or very amused, I can't tell." 

I laugh. And I'm a little relieved. Banksie seems to have finally had a _good_ stroke of luck, for once in his life. 

Whatever she had to say next is interrupted as the door swings open and Guy comes in. "Hey, Charlie, how..." He sees Linda and smirks. I can just _see_ his thought process as he begins to back off. "Oh, sorry. I'll leave you two alone." 

"GERMAINE, GET BACK HERE!" I holler. Bad idea. I start coughing and Linda throws another fit. "Linda, I'm *hack* okay *cough* get off me, I need to *gasp* breathe!" 

Guy is cracking up. I make a note to myself that when I get better I need to kill him. Slowly. Painfully. With either a heavy blunt object or multiple sharp pointy objects, I'm not sure which. Guess I've got plenty of time to decide that. 

Plenty of time. It's gonna be a long, long week. 


	11. Saving Grace

**Second Time Around**   
Chapter 11: Saving Grace 

_A/N- And 11 chapters later, I finally start to get to the point... -_-' You can figure out the POV on your own this time. It's easy. ^_^_

***** 

This place needs to loosen up. I was kinda expecting the other Ducks to take care of that. Man! They really do need me around! 

The Dean, a stuffy guy in suspenders, escorts me to my room. "You won't have a roommate. I hope that's acceptable?" 

"Sure, man. Just show me to the hockey rink." I can't wait to see their faces. They weren't expecting me back until the end of the summer. But my grandma got sick, so Dad brought Terry and me home while Mom stayed in Colorado for awhile. I had a hockey scholarship here at Eden Hall, just waiting for me to show up and sign, so here I am. 

Guess the Dean didn't know that. "You're a hockey player? Well you just missed the team. They left to play a quarterfinal game against Lakes Academy half an hour ago." 

Figures. "I'm going." 

He frowns, but this is Eden Hall, and I'm a hockey player! If it gives the team a better chance to win, they'll do it. (Preps.) 

They get me an extra jersey. Number 15, no name. It'll do for now. What really gets me is that it's Eden Hall colors, but has the Duck logo on it. Maybe the team's been doing better than I thought. 

Next thing I know, I'm the only passenger on an Eden Hall sports bus headed for Lakes Academy. The things these cake-eaters'll do for hockey. Well, their hearts are in the right place, if nothing else. 

The team is already warming up by the time I get there. They're looking good, but I don't know about the coach. He looks like he's wound a little tight. 

They haven't noticed me. I track down Banks as they start to do laps, and wait for him to come near where I'm standing. "Hey, don't I even get a hello, Cake-eater?" 

He stops dead. _"Jesse!"_

Naturally, the whole team hears, and I get swamped by Ducks. 

"What're you doing here?" 

"Are you playing?" 

"How're ya doin'?" That last was Dwayne. I actually _missed_ that Texas accent. 

"Hey, whoa, slow down, man!" I back off a little. "I'm fine, I'm playing, and I'll tell ya how I got here some other time. Aren't you gonna introduce me to the coach?" 

It's only when Banks is the one to introduce me to Coach Orion that I realize someone's missing. (After all, they've been crowding me too much to get a count.) "Hey, where's Charlie?" 

Everyone answers at once. "Sick." 

"Pneumonia." 

"Committed." 

_"AVERMAN!"_

Good to see nothing's changed. 

***** 

It takes a little to catch up on the current name situation. Cake-eater is now Banksie, Dwayne is Cowboy, and Fulton seems to have changed from Fulton Reed to Fulton Fulton. And the Warriors are now the Ducks, but I guess I'll hear about that later. 

I steal the puck from one of the Kingfishers and drive it into their zone. Connie tracks it down and puts it in the net. It's 3-1, near the end of the third period. They're tough, but we're tougher. 

After all, the Ducks are inspired. We've got a sick captain to win this for. And an old teammate to show off to. 

In the locker room, I'm bombarded with questions. I have to explain how I got here three times before coach arrives, which saves me. 

"Practice tomorrow is cancelled. You need to rest. The semifinal game next week is against the number 1 seed, Blake." An indignant growl goes up from everyone, except Portman and me. I'll have to drag this out of someone. Sounds like a vendetta. Could be fun. "I've talked to the doctor, and he says we should have Conway back by then. All right, clear out and be on the bus in half an hour." 

Half an hour? Sure, we've already had 15 minutes or so and we probably would've been done by then anyway. But man! Not even Captain Blood actually _told_ us how much time we had. This could take some getting used to. 

Banks and I sit in the back of the bus. I'm trying to get some explanations of what I've missed, but it isn't working. Everyone keeps asking me stuff and I can't get a question in edgewise. And when I do, they all talk at once and it's no help at all. 

Finally I just stop trying. "Cake-eater! I don't have a roommate, you're coming over tonight to tell me what's been goin' on!" 

***** 

It's great to be back. I think. Man! School full of preppy snots, bad. Workaholic coach, worse. But add the Ducks... and it's all worth it. 

Someone knocks on the door. Should be Banks. "Come on in!" 

He does. I gape. 

He's wearing a hockey jersey. A green one. With a duck on the front. But I know that he doesn't have his old jersey at the moment. And I can see the number on the sleeves. 9. 

"Cake-eater, I hate you." 

He laughs. 

~~~~~   
_We were leaving the next morning. The team had already thrown a big goodbye party, but I wasn't ready to go just yet. I had something I needed to do... I needed to talk to Banks._

_Cake-eater and I didn't let on how close we were. Not too often. I had a reputation to keep. But he couldn't hide it that day. Even in the middle of a party, he managed to be subdued. And I gotta admit, I'll miss him more than the rest._

_I made a decision, grabbed my old Duck jersey, and ran out the door. But I was only halfway to where I was going when I saw a figure coming towards me. A tall, lanky, familiar-looking figure. On rollerblades._

_"Hey Jesse." Banks grins, a little self-consciously. "You're out late."_

_"Lookin' for someone."_

_He gets the idea. We stare at each other for a moment, and I catch sight of something. He's holding something green. Duck green._

_I laugh, and thrust my own jersey into his free hand. "Hang onto this until I get back, okay, Cake-eater?"_

_"Sure. And take this with you." He hands me the jersey he brought. "Well... guess I'll see you next year."_

_"Yeah. See ya."_   
~~~~~ 

I shake my head, dig around in one of my suitcases, and hold his jersey up. "Two can play at that game." I yank it over my head and glare. 

He grins and flops on the unoccupied bed. Just like old times. I've missed all of the Ducks, yeah. But especially Banks... when Cake-eater loosens up, he's the coolest of them all. "So what's been goin' on here? Eden Hall Ducks? You've been assimilating them without me?" 

"You picked the wrong person to ask about most of this," he responds. "But the Duck thing... we beat the Varsity in the JV-Varsity game, which just isn't supposed to happen. Coach Bombay got the school to change the JV team's name to Ducks afterwards. Just to spite them." 

I can't help laughing. "So why're you the wrong person to ask?" 

"Coach Orion's an idiot and put me on Varsity. I was with them for most of the _interesting_ part of the year. So I'd be telling things from the wrong side." 

Leave it to Banks to make Varsity! "And you got demoted?" 

"Voluntarily. You have not had the misfortune of meeting the Varsity preps yet." 

"And you're calling them preps? Man, they _must_ be bad. But at least you had the Ducks on your side. Bet they regretted you were ever on their team!" 

"Yeah." It's his hesitation that tells me I've said something I shouldn't have. I sense a story I'm not going to like. I'll get it out of him. Banks only _wishes_ he could keep secrets from me. I know him too well. And usually, he doesn't bother to try, so now I know it's bad. 

"Do I sense a lie?" 

"Of course not." 

"Cake-eater... don't make me come over there." Usually all I have to do is tell him I know he's lying, and he spills. Man, I'm gonna find out something I don't want to find out... like I picked the wrong year to spend in Colorado. "C'mon. I just want to help." 

That gets him. "Help?" He laughs, a little bitterly. "It's too late to help. But I'll tell you what happened. The Ducks decided if I wasn't gonna wear a Duck jersey I wasn't gonna be friends with them anymore. And then the prank wars started. They treated me like just another Varsity player, who cares that I wasn't acting like one. Nobody was stupid enough to tell me what they were planning so I could go off and warn the Ducks, which any idiot should've realized. But the _Ducks_ didn't realize it. They just went right on escalating things until we got into an unofficial JV-Varsity hockey match. Charlie and I got in a big fight and Coach came in and broke it up, and—" 

He cuts off abruptly. I'm near furious. You'd think, if _I_ can be best friends with the Cake-eater, _they_ could show him a little support! He's not done yet though, and I'm not letting him off until I've heard everything. "And?" 

"Nothing." It's his closed tone, the one that says 'get off my back' in no uncertain terms. But it doesn't work on me. 

"You just ran outta stuff to say? C'mon, man, I won't tell." 

He sighs, and stares at me. What I see is not the Cake-eater I left here. Yeah, I definitely picked the wrong year not to be around. "I won't tell you. You'll get all indignant and start acting like some sort of guardian angel, and I've already been through that once, and I don't like it." 

"I won't." Maybe I really should drop it. But I have to know. 

My persistence finally pays off. "Fine. _Fine_. I tried to kill myself. Are you satisfied now?" 

I said I wasn't going to get indignant. Too bad. "WHAT?" I know whose fault this is, the Ducks wouldn't just bail on one of their own without _his_ say-so. "Where's Charlie, man, pneumonia or not, I'm gonna—" 

"You said you weren't gonna do anything. Look, I'm sorry I told you. Forget about it. Nothing's wrong now. Okay?" 

Curiosity satisfied, I'll do as he asks. If he says it's okay... I'll be able to tell soon enough whether he meant it. We change the topic, something about rats, but it doesn't change my thoughts. 

I wasn't here for my best friend. I wasn't here for my team. I've got to make it up to them. Man... I'm never going on vacation again. 


	12. Revenge for the Hawk

**Second Time Around**   
Chapter 12: Revenge for the Hawk 

_A/N- The only thing worse than a plot bunny is when the plot bunny demands to be part of an already existing fic... and this has been sitting in my notebook all week and I was too lazy to type it. Sigh. Adam's POV_

***** 

Who's the idiot that said time flies when you're having fun? This week's been about as not-fun as they come, and it still flew. Is somebody trying to tell me I really had fun but I'm subconsciously denying it? 

Whoa, that was weird. Philosophy kick! I hate when that happens. Especially on the ice. 

We warm up self-consciously, glaring at the Bears on the other side of the ice. They glare back. The intensity in the air is more than tangible. It's suffocating. And the game hasn't even started yet. 

"Everybody ready?" Charlie asks as we get together on the bench. Coach starts to say something but the captain's still going. We don't _need_ a coach to fire us up for this one. Our wounded pride is enough. "We're going to make them regret the day they came to our ice and humiliated us. We won't let them do it again. That was the Warriors. This is the Ducks. And Ducks don't lose to anyone!" 

Coach gives him a slightly indignant look. "Couldn't have said it better myself. I guess. All right, hands in. Let's get fired up." Like he needs to tell us twice. Like we need firing up. 

"Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack!" The Bears shoot us furious looks from their own side of the ice, and start on their own chant. Not that there's anyone that can hear it over our quacking. "Go Ducks!" 

I take the faceoff. Blake's center looks eerily familiar, but I let it go. 

He doesn't bother with the puck, just cross-checks me and lets a teammate worry about it. I know better than to stay down and hope for a call. 

Jesse checks the Bear as he goes down the ice. The puck shoots free, and Charlie grabs it. Open ice between him and the goal. He takes the first shot of the game. 

It goes wide of the net, but just barely, and their goalie dove for it anyway. Before he can get back in the net Luis streaks forward, wraps around, slams the puck in, and crashes into the boards. Hardly a minute gone, and we're already up. 

Blake's supposed to be the best team in the league. It can't be this easy. 

I was right. By the end of the first period we were losing, 2-1. As we started the second period, I couldn't help being a little worried. But now I think maybe I shouldn't have been. 

Connie and Guy take the puck up and two Bears, 4 and 7, check them hard. I keep thinking there's something familiar about the way those two play... but I can't quite place it and I don't have the time to worry. It can't be important. Can it? 

"Banks, Wu, change it!" 

Ken and I jump off the bench. He takes left defense, tracks down the puck, and passes it up to me on the right wing. I give it to Connie, but she loses it. Guy hipchecks the offender and gets it back, then fires it to Dwayne. 

No Bears between the Cowboy and the goal. 

We skate after him. I think there's someone just behind me... 

"Banks, watch your back!" 

"Dammit!" the Bear following me growls. 

I whirl around. Number 7. But I know that voice. There's no way. _No_ way. _WHY_ is he here? And why does he look ready to cross-check me from behind? _Again_. "McGill?!" 

He jumps me before I can get anything else out. That's okay, let him. I owe him. 

The refs immediately try to break it up, but it's a hopeless case. At my yell, Connie and Guy jumped into the mix too, and number 4 of the Bears also came in. Someone's yanked his helmet off and I recognize him. Preston. So that's why those two seemed so familiar... 

Nobody even noticed when Dwayne scored. We're tied now, in any case. He and Ken have jumped into the mix, even though they don't know why it started. I think the Duck bench must've cleared too, because I catch sight of Jesse pounding on one of the Bears. 

Someone finally pulls me out of the mess. I think I gave McGill a black eye though, that's always good. Pain shoots through my shoulder, but it's nothing major. Nothing to worry about. 

I hardly even notice that the ref is taking me over to the box until I hear him state the penalty. "99 Banks! Five minutes, fighting." That's just fine with me. He'll get his, too, and the instigator penalty. The score just evened up. That's all I'm worried about. 

I might've known I'd run into him again. Hawks never forget. 

***** 

Coach is irate. "That was entirely uncalled for. You're not going to win this by fighting! I don't want any more fights, you got that? And if something breaks out you stay on the bench." He glares at all of us. You could hear a pin drop in the locker room right now. "If you plan to win this thing you've got to outplay them, not outpunch them. Think _smart_ hockey and _defensive_ hockey. Got it?" 

I could tell right from the beginning that Jesse doesn't care much for Coach Orion. This isn't helping. "We had a score to settle with them, man. We got our Duck pride to defend." 

"Defend it on your own time." 

We go back on the ice plenty fired up, still. We won't be knocked out of the tournament by some ex-Hawks. Especially not after they humiliated us in our first game at Eden Hall. 

Listen to me! I talk like I was on the team. 

I start the third period on the bench, probably because of the fight. Charlie and McGill are wings, opposite each other. When the puck is dropped there's gonna be a real war on that side of the ice... 

Averman wins the faceoff, but Preston steals it and tries a slap shot. Julie comes up with it just in time. Charlie and McGill are too busy shoving each other to get the puck but Portman's there to take it. He and Fulton charge up the ice, scattering Bears all the way. 

Their goalie blocks Portman's shot, but Russ gets the rebound at the blue line and knucklepucks it in. Tie game. 

Coach switches to a more defensive line. Goldberg, Ken, Connie, Guy, and me. We'll probably be in for most of the period, if I know his strategy. Which I do. 

McGill and Preston will be gunning for me, I'm prepared for that. McGill isn't on the ice right now, though. (Probably something about being too busy fighting with the Duck to notice the puck right in front of him.) No problem. 

For nearly ten minutes we stay out, no substitutes. Neither team is getting much of anywhere. A Blake player gets whistled for boarding, and Coach finally decides to give us a break. Almost immediately, Portman gets called for tripping, even though it was such an obvious fake-out that even most of the Blake players look stunned. 

So much for the power play. I just hope he doesn't start stripping again. The refs haven't let anything by since the fight, no matter how minor, and they'd probably kick him out for unsportsmanlike conduct. 

Charlie gets the puck and tries to take it up the ice, but gets tripped. No call. 

With one minute left, Blake pulls their goalie. We all exchange glances. _Not again_. One of the Bears takes a shot, but Luis gets in front of it. Dwayne and Fulton take the puck up the ice. We might pull this off... 

Jesse gets it and takes it back behind the net. Coach recognizes this move as a 'little Duck trick,' and he's about to explode. The team comes out in the V-formation anyway. Blake backs off a little. 

By the time anyone realizes that the puck is still behind the net, the game's over. We've won. 

We're going to the finals. And the ex-Hawks aren't. It doesn't get much better than this. 


	13. Duck Tape

**Second Time Around**   
Chapter 13: Duck Tape 

_A/N- Chapter 12 was plot bunny inspired, and I was on _way_ too much caffeine when I wrote this one, so the story's kinda out of whack as far as the plot goes. It'll be getting back to the point next chapter. ^_^ Speaking of chapters, in case anyone's interested, this story's supposed to go up to 16, so this is almost done, yay. POVs switch around in this one, fun. Scooter's for now._

***** 

The locker room looks like a war zone. 

The Ducks are still out on the ice celebrating. When they get back in here, sparks are gonna fly. I don't think I want to be here when it happens. "We should go. Now." 

Rat and Jay glance at me. "I think we should wait," the rodent points out. "Not that I think they'd really believe you were in on this, but that would clear you without a doubt. They know you wouldn't be stupid enough to hang around after sabotaging the place, even if you did do it." She's right. I suppose. 

I got a little suspicious, earlier, when Riley and Cole said they couldn't make it to the game. But I chalked it up to them not wanting to see the Ducks do anything that might make them look _good_. When I saw them, at the end of the third period, near the entrance to the Duck locker room, I figured out pretty much what was going on. I knew better than to ask any of my teammates to come along, but I headed down to check things out. I ran into Rat on the way, she called Jay down, and here we are. 

It's a mess. The guys really outdid themselves this time. There's duct tape doubled up on the locker handles, so the Ducks'll get stuck when they try to open them, and it doesn't matter anyway because the lockers are superglued shut. Everyone's clothes are in one of the showers and drenched with paint, and their shoes are hanging from the shower rod. They put duct tape in strategic points on the walls hoping for an unfortunate Duck to brush against it and get stuck. And on every wall, writing. EDEN HALL SUCKY DUCKIES! 

I could go on, but I think I've said enough. 

Rat immediately starts untying the first shoe's laces. "First we help clean this mess up. Then we help them get revenge." 

"As long as I'm not getting revenged on." 

She laughs, and I join her with the shoelaces. Jay starts pulling the duct tape off the walls. And now of all times is when the Ducks come in. 

Charlie is the first to speak. "They're. Gonna. Die." 

"Let us help," Rat offers, tossing the first shoe on the ground. "And don't kill Scooter." 

"We know better than that," Julie assures her. But she's mad. And she's beautiful when she's angry... shut up, Scooter! You've got more important things to worry about. "So Scooter, will you help us out too?" 

I exchange glances with the soccer players, then with the Ducks. "Okay, but there's not a lot I can do." 

"Just tell us when your next practice is. We know you don't have any more home games," Russ instructs. Fair enough, I can do that. The rest of the Ducks start cleaning. "They like duct tape? We'll give em duct tape." 

***** 

Rat's POV   
Varsity practices late. They're going until 10 tonight. Good. That means we'll have plenty of time. 

Jesse, Adam, Charlie, and I meet outside the rink at 9. We wait. Jay's late, and Julie and Connie are getting the duct tape. We make up the second unit. Ken and Russ, the first unit (and orchestrators of the plan) are probably already there. And already done. And wondering where the hell we are. 

Dwayne is already mounted on a horse he and Charlie swiped from the Eden Hall stables earlier, before rendezvous. He's patrolling the area with a radio. Just in case anyone happens to be wandering around. 

Connie runs up to us. Julie's behind her, carrying a big backpack. We don't have to ask to know that it's full of duct tape. "Twelve rolls," the Cat breathes. "Are we ready?" 

"Waiting on Jay," I answer. No sooner are the words out of my mouth then my slacker of a boyfriend shows up. 

"Sorry," he apologizes quickly. "Coach Anderson almost caught me and I had to take a detour." Coach Anderson is the Warrior soccer coach. And he's the last person you want to be found by. It's not that Jay would've gotten in trouble, we're not past curfew for another half hour. But Coach likes to know where his players are. At all times. 

"Yo, Cowboy!" Jesse hisses into the radio. "All clear?" 

"All secure from where I'm standin'. Go on in." 

The locker room is quiet, but the two mastermind Ducks are there, as expected. Russ Tyler and Ken Wu. I don't know them well, but I do know that anybody who could think of a plan like this have to be either sadistic or brilliant. Freezing their clothes! Gotta love it. 

"We're done," Russ announces, patting the liquid nitrogen tank they're holding. "Scooter's locker is over there. We closed it already, but just so you know." Scooter was given a North Stars baseball cap and ordered to put it in his locker, so we'd know which one not to sabotage. 

"You know, we should really be taping mirrors all over," Jay observes. "Nothing could traumatize those goons like seeing their faces." 

"Unless we put pictures of _you_ on all the lockers," I crack. He slugs me. Adam laughs. 

We set to work. First, we go to the each of the open lockers—with neat little piles of frozen clothes inside them—and close the doors, duct tape them shut, and double up the tape. Then we tape all their shoes to the floor. Then, we write on the walls. (With duct tape, of course.) 

EVERYBODY LOVES DUCK TAPE! 

Right on time, the third unit arrives. They were out getting their own supplies. They're the largest group, all the rest of the Ducks, but they have the biggest job. The different groups aren't sticking around while the next team does their work, at least if one gang gets caught we won't _all_ get caught. Russ and Ken have already left. 

The rest of the tape unit leaves, but I decide to stick around. I don't have anything else to do, and I want to know what the third part of the plan is. They never told us any details. Just that it's big. 

I don't really know any of these Ducks, just the names. At least I _think_ I know the names. There's Averman, Goldie.... Goldie? That doesn't sound quite right but oh well. And Luis... pretty sure that's right... and the Bash Brothers (somebody Portman and somebody Fulton). I already know Guy, I met him once when he showed up at Julie's dorm to get Connie. 

Speak of the devil. "Hey Rat," Guy calls from where he's dumping magenta paint into somebody's shoes, "if you're going to stay here you have to help!" 

Like I'm going to complain. 

The paint is nice and thick and disgusting and a godawful shade of pink. What more could you ask for? We have to be careful not to get any paint on the outside on the shoes, so they won't have any warning. 

After the shoes, we hit the showers. Duct tape over the shower heads, except for the last one. We just tape that one up so they can't get any hot water. Hey, if they're desperate enough, they'll use it anyway. We duct tape the shower curtains to the walls, while we're at it. 

For the final touch, we took a big banner with the Duck logo and duct taped it to the wall. 

9:45, 15 minutes past curfew. We should get out of here. Right around the same time we get to the door, though, Dwayne's voice comes through the radio. "The Dean's comin'! Get outta there!" 

Oh, man. _Busted_. 

***** 

Scooter's POV   
I would've given anything to have a camera when we walked into the locker room. 

"_DUCKS!"_

"Naturally," Darrow agrees. He looks highly amused, though it definitely isn't because he likes the Ducks. He's just annoyingly cheerful. Besides, _somebody_ has to be impressed that the Ducks one-upped us. "Don't you guys know by now that if you do something they'll get us back?" 

Cole scowls and slams him into a locker, where he gets stuck on the doubled-up tape. 

I shake my head and go over to my locker—which is completely untouched. Just like they promised. The rest of the team files back to the showers. 

Another yell. "Those damn Ducks mutilated the showers!" Riley comes tearing back into the locker room. And he catches sight of me. "Hey Scooter, why isn't _your_ locker taped up?" 

Uh oh. "I had it closed. Maybe they thought it was empty?" But I don't think he's buying it. It's only when someone yells that one of the showers is working (followed by another scream about cold water) that he leaves. I change as quickly as I can, because I know I'll be branded a traitor the second the rest of the team hears. 

Was a laugh worth that? 

But then I think of Julie. Yeah, it was all worth it. 


	14. Understand My Tears

**Second Time Around**   
Chapter 14: Understand My Tears 

_A/N- Two chapters with practically no angst. How _have_ I pulled this off... ah well, an error now corrected. ^_^ Speaking of errors, I reread chapter 13 and discovered that I can't count, but... oh well. Spring break has been getting in the way of the story, I don't write as well when I'm not ignoring a teacher, but since school's started again this story should be done soon. I got to work my favorite part of the D2 book in! Yay! ^_^ This story seems to be paralleling parts of Closer Than We Thought that I haven't even written yet, weird. ...whew, long notes. Adam's POV_

***** 

Rat's waiting for me when I get to the soccer field. Not a Warrior in sight. 

"I think I missed something..." 

"Had you bothered to show up at all last week, you would know that they have a game at Duluth tonight." She scowls, I know that she's a bit annoyed I didn't make it to any of their practices last week. What was I supposed to do? We've got longer hockey practices now, and last week was a complete mess anyway thanks to a little fight with Varsity that broke out on Monday, in—of all places—biology. (Both teams had detention for the rest of the week. Detention with Varsity is not a great way to spend the afternoon.) The game against Blake was the first and only good thing that happened, well, that and the locker sabotage. 

But that only went well for some of us. I heard the whole story from Guy... they ducked into the forest to ditch the leftover supplies, I believe he phrased it _incriminating_ _evidence_, and hopefully avoid the Dean. It almost worked. The way he tells it, all of the third unit (plus Rat) got caught about ten feet from the nearest dorm. Being _hockey_ players, and with a clean slate (officially...), the Ducks didn't get in trouble. This is Rat's fifth time getting caught and she's got a detention. 

"Since the field is free," she continues after realizing I'm not going to answer, "I thought I'd teach you to play. So next time you join a pickup game you won't have to be clueless." 

What????? Y'know, I promised myself I _wasn't_ going to say anything about her getting caught, but... I never said anything about pretending I don't know about it. "Sure, we can do that. But you didn't tell me how stage 3 of the locker sabotage went." 

"It went wonderfully. Except that I now hate all of you Ducks," she mutters. She surely realizes that I already knew what happened, and she's not going to dignify the question with an explanation. "Now come here. This thing is called a sideline, and if the ball goes over the sideline, it's out of bounds..." 

I already knew that. And I don't want to play soccer. But come to think of it, playing one on one might not be quite as bad as that last mess... while she talks, I unceremoniously knock the ball out of her hands and kick it up the field. 

It was a pretty pitiful kick that didn't even get it near where it was supposed to go, but that's okay. She gets the idea. 

We manage almost half an hour with no incident... well, except for Rat kicking the ball over the goal, over the fence, and three inches away from hitting her coach, who chooses very bad times to be walking around. But then while she's trying to take the ball up the field, she manages to run over me. I immediately reach out my right arm to catch myself. 

Stupid thing to do, really. 

I manage not to cry out as pain shoots through my wrist, but Rat's obviously seen enough injuries to see that something's wrong. "Are you okay?" 

"Fine. Old injury. Acts up now and then..." 

"Let me see." 

I know better than to argue with Rat, so I allow her to examine my wrist. I only realize how stupid that was when she asks, "What's the scar from?" 

She says it so casually. Her face tells another story, and I know my careless, "Nothing serious, skating accident," doesn't fool her. Skating accident? What the hell kind of lousy excuse was that, Banks? "Y'know, I really should be going. I've got homework..." 

Stop staring at me, Rat. I don't like that look. It's the same look I got so often from Charlie, after he read my sketchbook. I probably shouldn't get so pissed off about people being worried about me. But... 

She follows me. "I'll help you with it. We can get back to the game sooner." 

"You, on the Inferno, are going to help me with schoolwork?" I usually wouldn't insult someone about their grades, but Julie, Scooter, Jay, and Rat herself all do, so I know it's okay. As long as I'm joking. Which I am. 

Of course, I know full well that's not why she wants to come along, and I'm right. As soon as she realizes I'm not going to let her follow me, she seizes me by the wrist (the other one, of course) and starts dragging me off the field. For a skinny girl who's a foot shorter than me and probably weighs at least 50 pounds less, Rat's really very strong... 

I go with her, semi-willingly. "Where are we going?" She doesn't answer. After a minute or two I realize we're heading towards the forest. She drags me in pretty deep, then pushes me into a sitting position against one of the trees. "Talk." 

The Ducks always say it's easier to talk to non-Ducks about any issues they have with the team. Charlie vents to Linda, Julie to Scooter, Russ to his lab partner in science, Ken to Don Tibbles (Hey, that's what I've heard)... etc. I've done a fair bit of talking with Max, come to think of it, but nothing very serious. Now I _really_ get to test the theory. 

Rat sits across from me, leaning against another tree. She doesn't say anything else. Just leaves it at that single, quiet command... talk. I don't quiet know what she expects me to say. So I wait. And she waits. 

Patience is not one of my stronger virtues. "So where do I start?" 

"Where you think it's best to start." 

That could be a really long story. One more attempt to get out of this. "It's not important. It's over now." I've said similar things before. To Charlie. And Jesse. Often. It didn't work on them and I don't expect it to work now, but it's worth a shot. 

"So you're over it?" 

"Yes." Who am I trying to kid? 

She frowns. "Then you wouldn't be denying it." Eh? She's lost me. "My older sister's studying to be a psychologist. Whenever I see her I get a lecture on it, so I'd like to think I know what I'm talking about. If you're over a traumatic event, you're willing to talk about it, because you've accepted it. If you're not over it, you want to deny it, pretend it never happened, or that it's no big deal, and you won't talk about it. Which means you need to talk about it." 

That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard. "Uh... okay, I get it. I guess. Was she making that up?" 

"Knowing her, it's a good possibility. But it makes sense. So talk." 

Persistent, the soccer freak is. "Besides, I have talked to people." If she tells me Charlie and Jesse don't count, I'm going to scream. 

She frowns for a moment. "Adam..." 

I seem to be very good at annoying people when they want to help me. But I don't need to go through the same don't-make-Adam-upset-he-might-kill-himself phase that I went through with Charlie again... I don't need help, dammit! 

I'm not a very good liar. I can't even lie to myself. "All right. But I warned you." 

"Right. And I'm listening." 

I wish I had my sketchbook, it could be so much easier. But no such luck. Bracing myself for the onslaught of pain, I begin. "When we were all in peewees, I was on a team called the Hawks. We were the best team in the league, hadn't lost a game since 1973. And we rubbed it in to the other teams every chance we got. Especially District 5, because they had no name, no equipment, no money, no talent... you get the idea." I pause for a moment, wishing she would say something. So I don't feel like I'm rambling. "But then District 5 got a new coach, and he taught them to play. Got them equipment. Gave them a name." 

I can see comprehension dawning on her. "Ducks." 

"Yeah." She falls silent again, so I continue. "At one of our games, a league official showed up and told our coach that I was on the wrong team. Seems the district lines had been redrawn but the Hawks—and everyone else—conveniently overlooked that." 

"Sounds like something Eden Hall might do," she mutters. Maybe just to prove that she's listening. "Go on." 

"So I got put on the Ducks, who naturally hated me, since I'd spent most of the year tormenting them. Except Charlie, but I thought he was weird." My throat's starting to close up. This isn't even the hard part! I will _not_ start crying. "The Hawks started to hate me as soon as I switched teams. The Ducks were winning their games, and suddenly there we were in the championship game, against the Hawks. My ex-_best_ _friend_ shoved me into a goalpost and I spent the rest of the game in the hospital." 

Rat cringes. "That's rough... knowing the Ducks though, I assume he got what was coming to him?" 

"Who do you think started that fight during the last game?" She nods, but doesn't say anything, so I guess I should go on. "So we won that, even though I missed the celebration. Having to go to the hospital for scoring our first goal pretty much won all the Ducks over, though. So they didn't hate me anymore, we went to the Jr. Goodwill Games, my dad was happy again, life was good." 

"Whoa, whoa, slow down. Where does your dad fit in?" 

I mentally curse myself for letting that slip. Not even Jesse knows the extent of my parental issues, and that's saying something. But... I'm in this deep. "He was mad that I had to change teams, because the Ducks were 'losers' and the Hawks never lost... he actually told the Duck coach that I would rather not play than be on his team, would've been nice if he'd asked me what I thought first... He thinks I exist for nothing but hockey. Which is partly true. But if I'm going to be like that, I want it to be because I like the game that much. Not because I have to win to inflate his _ego_." Even I am a little surprised at how bitter that came out. 

Then again, by now, I'm probably a very bitter person. 

She comes over to sit next to me. "So you went to the Jr. Goodwill Games. Tell me more." 

"Nothing much really happened. Except this." I hold up my wrist. "Never make someone mad enough to break a hockey stick over your arm. It really isn't pleasant..." I purposely leave out the part about Miss McKay pointing out that there's only a 1 in 1000 chance of making it into the NHL. Or my subsequent depression and packing up to leave. Because I know that if I think too much about that, I'll start to give up on myself again. 

Luckily, she believes me that there's nothing more to it. "And every Eden Hall student, including the 99% of us who slept through your intro assembly, knows that you won the gold. Then you came back to Minnesota and got scholarships. I believe you told me you got assigned to Varsity?" 

I told her that? Oh yeah... I did tell her that. Oops. "Yeah. And there was this huge prank war between Varsity and JV, that the Ducks thought I was siding with Varsity on, even though they weren't telling me anything. So they gave up on me. Jesse, the one Duck who wouldn't have dropped me, was in Colorado, so I was pretty much on my own. Eventually we got into an unofficial game. I wanted to go as a Duck, but I knew they wouldn't want me there. Plus when my roommate caught me trying to put my Duck jersey on he punched me out, but that's beside the point." 

"Fun." 

"Very. I tried to apologize to Charlie, but he was... less than enthusiastic about accepting it." I don't want to say anything bad about Charlie. But there's not really anything good I can say about that. "He was starting to really piss me off, so I went after him on the ice. He dragged me into the goal. Big fight ensued. Coach Orion came and broke it up. We'd played in the morning, so we were supposed to be going to classes but I wasn't in the mood..." 

Where do I go from here? We got in a fight so I tried to kill myself, yeah, I'll bet. That makes me sound like a complete and _total_ wimp. 

"And things had been going so badly I just decided I'd had enough. I wasn't thinking very clearly at the time." 

"What about now? Things are better?" 

I've been waiting for her to say that, even if I didn't realize it. "You _want_ me to go off on a rant?" 

"It'll help. Trust me." 

I _do_ trust you, Rat, even if it annoys the hell out of me that you're getting involved in this mess. I still don't want to say anything I'm going to regret later... but I find myself talking anyway. "I hate Charlie sometimes... he takes everything for granted, all his friends, his talent, everything... he's so sure that no matter what he does to us we'll always be there for him again if he decides he's changed his mind. And the worst part is that he's right. The entire team doesn't think he can do anything wrong, and even if they do, they don't dare say anything..." 

"You're jealous." It isn't a question. 

Why bother denying it? "Yeah. He's got everything important but he just doesn't see it... everything has to go his way. He's the damn _Captain_. And after that game... it was just like nothing had ever happened. He never said a word about it. Never acted the least bit sorry. Just assumed I was his best friend again..." I trail off. I can't do this anymore. 

But she was right. The realization comes from out of nowhere. I do feel better now... 

Quietly, she reaches up and brushes a few tears out of my eyes. I hardly even realized I was crying. She doesn't say anything, and I'm incredibly grateful for it. She isn't going to go into a tirade about how sorry she is. She's not going to go off and try to kill Charlie. Most importantly, I'm not getting that damned "You should talk to him" routine that nearly anyone else would have given me for my rant. 

I've talked to him, and I've said all I dare to say. And she understands. 

***** 

I have no idea how long we've been here, but suddenly, we hear voices. They're very familiar voices. "If they're giving you so much trouble, maybe we should tone it down a little... at least until summer, when they won't have to know." 

"Won't you be in Maine?" 

"Not for most of it. My parents have to go on a business trip that'll go until after school starts, so I'll be staying with Connie starting in July." 

"Well... it might be a good idea. But I don't think I could stand trying to pretend for the rest of the year..." 

They're walking closer... Rat stands up. "We should go," she whispers. I couldn't agree more. We try to just slip away, but it's not _our_ fault we can still hear Julie and Scooter talking as we leave. The next statement makes us both stop dead. 

"I understand. But I don't want you to get hurt because of me anymore..." 

That can only mean one thing. Because I know perfectly well that Riley & Co. have no trouble with thrashing anyone they even _think_ isn't showing the proper Warrior spirit. And dense as they are, there's still a good chance someone noticed that Scooter's stuff didn't get frozen/painted/duct taped/etc. 

Rat indicates for me to stay put, then sneaks off towards the voices. She comes back a minute later, cringing. "They've really done a number on him. Looks like he got in a fight with a steamroller and lost." She pauses, I can tell we're thinking the same thing. 

"He did." 

We exit the woods in complete silence. "I'm going to have a little chat with them at our next study session," she announces finally. "And then the soccer teams are gonna start a little war with Varsity. Those two are perfect for each other and no dictatorial hockey team is gonna mess that up." 

I laugh. At the same time, I'm relieved, she's forgotten about my... issues very quickly. For now at least. And hey, it sounds like a fun crusade. (If anyone's going to war with Varsity, you know the JV's gonna be in on it.) 

We split paths. I've got practice, she's got detention. 

High school is a lot more complicated than it has any right to be. 

***** 

Charlie walks into the locker room after practice looking half shaken, half furious. "They decided on a rink for us," he announces. We all look at him, interested. This being the championship game and all, we aren't playing it on the lower ranked team's home ice. We have to go somewhere _completely_ _nonpartisan_. Usually whatever hockey rink's closest to the middle point between the two competing schools. 

"It's _that_ bad?" Averman asks. 

"Blake." 

Yeah, it's that bad. Blake!? That's got to be some sort of sick joke. Right in the middle of Hawk territory, just where not _one_ of us wants to be. 

"I thought the rink had to be _neutral_," Guy mutters. "They'll have _better_ than a home ice advantage." The rest of the team nods in agreement. 

But Ken and Russ are grinning. We know what that means. This could be fun after all. 


	15. Power Play

**Second Time Around**   
Chapter 15: Power Play 

_A/N- Took me long enough, and it didn't even turn out all that well... writer's block and illness do not mix. Sorry the game's so short but it wasn't the point of this chapter anyway. Charlie's POV_

***** 

We arrive in the Blake locker room half an hour early. It's all part of Ken and Russ's Master Plan. 

"All right... got the tape?" 

"Right here." 

"Lucky the floor's this color, they won't even be able to see it." 

"Should we warn Coach about it?" 

"Nah, he doesn't come in this way. Gimme the marker." 

Russ takes the black marker Ken offers and tapes it to the end of the door. Said door is then opened as wide as it goes, and the result is a black semicircle drawn on the floor. Ken explained the reasoning behind this earlier, we don't want the door getting stuck shut. "Very nice," I grin. 

They look over their masterpiece and nod in agreement, then break out the duct tape. "How wide do you suppose we should make the trap?" Ken inquires, laying one line of doubled-up tape along the edge of the line. 

"Wide as you want, Kenny," Russ grins. "Try three feet or so... hey, what're you all doin' just standing there! Come help us!" 

The rest of the Ducks do as we're ordered. In what seems like a very short time, we've got a three-foot barrier of duct tape all around the door. It leaves a few of the lockers unusable but hey! This locker room was designed for bigger teams. 

"It does blend in pretty well," Connie observes. 

"Yeah," Luis agrees. "They'll never know what hit 'em." 

We exchange high-fives, then go out on the ice. 

***** 

Duluth County High, the Fighting Wolverines. Coach Bombay tells us that Eden Hall's called them the Fighting Tangerines since _he_ went here. Tangerines or no Tangerines, Duluth is good. Very good. 

Of course they are, this is the damn championships. They have to be good. 

We take the ice. All of Blake seems to be here, and they're booing us. And cheering for the Tangerines. That's okay, we expected as much. We don't need fans. This game isn't even about Duluth, we could care less about them. We're just gonna show up the Hawks. Yet again. What better way than taking the championship they think _they_ deserve, right on their home ice? 

I take the faceoff. Duluth's center is built like a truck, but... it doesn't bother me. Size isn't everything in hockey. I'm better than him. 

He's overconfident too, if he'd been on his guard I never would've been able to smash into him and get him off balance like I did. I take the puck and fire it over to Luis, who gives it to Banks and runs into the boards. Banks passes it back to me, but a Tangerine steals it. 

Portman checks him and gets called for charging. The entire Ducks bench is up, yelling and wondering what the hell the refs are smoking, but... 

That's okay, they don't get anywhere. 

The whole first period goes like that. Refs call stupid penalty, Ducks kill the power play, refs call another stupid penalty. If we were anywhere but on Hawk ice we'd be losing badly. But no, we're too motivated in _this_ rink. 

The Hawks would be furious to know that they're actually helping us win. 

Second period, more of the same. Duluth finally scored, and I got an unsportsmanlike conduct penalty for yelling "Dammit!" after the fact. The whole team's willing to bet anything they've been bribed. Typical Hawk trick. They used to do that, Banks told us. Why would they have stopped now? 

In the penalty box I look around the stands, seeking out the ones responsible for this mess. Solely responsible. I doubt that Duluth knows a thing about it. It can't be traced back to the Hawks if they're the only ones who know it. Not that they couldn't pay anyone who cared to shut up. 

God, how pathetic those preps are. Then again, Eden Hall's just as preppy. 

We tie the game with a minute left in the second period. Ken checks the tape before we leave the locker room for the third. "Looks good," he confirms. "Now let's go peel some Tangerines." 

But the game's hard, and we're getting tired. We're starting to actually believe we might lose. But we can't lose! 

Not here. Not now. 

Luis gets called for boarding. I get the puck, fire it up to Guy, and race up the ice after him. Ken and Averman are on our tails. 

Guy fakes, passes it to me. I fake, pass it to Ken. Ken fakes, and the Duluth players gang up on Averman, anticipating a pass. Ken shoots. 

We're up one, but it's not going to stay that way, not the way we're playing. We need more motivation... I glance up at where I found the Hawks, expecting to see their smirking faces for reinforcement. 

They're gone. 

"Guys, the saboteurs are on the job," I announce. Are they really? Maybe they just went to the snack bar. Who knows. Who cares? It's a rallying point. Even with the trap set, and hoping they'll get stuck in it, the news that they really _are_ going to wreck our locker room (their locker room? Oh well) has the team furious. 

And with that comes a new wind. We don't manage to score again, but _they_ don't even get another shot off. 

Our celebration on the ice is short-lived, though. Coach comes storming out of the locker room and motions for us all to follow him, so we leave the Eden Hall fans who came along and go with him to see the results of our trap. 

***** 

Adam's POV

It's even better than we expected. Not only are McGill, Preston, and Larson all stuck to the tape just by walking in, everyone else is stuck from trying to help them get un-stuck. 

I count them, quickly. Preston, Ser, McGill, King, Herek, Fanger, Larson, Wise, Stevens, and Stickler. Ten out of 14's not bad. And I know where Brown is, he was older than the rest of us. He's playing for the Eden Hall Varsity. 

I'm so lost in Hawk-reminiscing that I miss Coach's lecture, which is probably just as well. I snap out of it in time to hear "So they shouldn't have been pokin' around in our stuff." 

That doesn't go over well. Jesse gets a lecture about this being their rink, then Coach storms off. 

McGill glares at us. "It's past midnight. We know you Ducks aren't going home at this hour." For once in his life, he's right, coach already told us we're going to a hotel for the night. "You'll meet us at three a.m. on the street puck court. We're gonna get you for this." And with that, the Hawks slip out of their shoes and stalk out. 

***** 

"Think we should take our hockey gear?" 

"They won't want a game." 

"Maybe we should still take our hockey gear." 

"At least the sticks." 

"And the gloves." 

"Gloves?" 

"What's stick, gloves, shirt without gloves?" 

"True, true." 

"I'm taking some sharp pointy objects." 

"Now now, be gentle, don't want to make them cry." 

"We don't?" 

"I think we do." 

"And you're right." 

"What do we do if Coach catches us?" 

"You think he'll give us a chance to do anything?" 

"We tell him we were invited." 

"We should wear our jerseys." 

"Too bad we don't have our old ones." 

I sigh and quietly bash myself in the head with my sketchbook. We've been having this conversation or something close to it, it's rather circular, for the last half hour. Obviously I'm not the only one getting annoyed, Dwayne's already left and Guy is edging towards the door. 

Ten minutes until we need to leave for the showdown with the Hawks. 

Coach has been confused that we haven't been partying over our win as much as he expected. We will party. But it's not a win until we've beat the Hawks, too. 

Someone knocks on the door. Most of us dive out of sight in an instant, expecting Coach to come in and ask what we're doing that's making so much noise. It's just Dwayne, and we're all relieved. He tells us that Coach is sound asleep and if we want to leave, we should probably do it now. 

I never did figure out why Ken and Russ always give Cowboy the scouting duty, but if it works... 

***** 

It's a good thing we left so early, it takes us fifteen minutes to find the court. The Hawks aren't here yet, not that we could've expected them to show early... if at all. The general opinion is that they expected us to refuse and won't really come. 

I know better. 

But when we've been out waiting for fifteen more minutes, I'm starting to wonder. "They chickened out," Portman announces. "Come on, let's go." 

The team agrees, and the Hawks choose that moment to appear. 

"You're late," Charlie announces. 

Larson sneers. "We had _important_ things to do." 

The Hawks form a circle around us. Why didn't we know to spread out more? "You brought your stuff," McGill observes. "Why'd you bother?" 

"Told you they didn't want a game," Averman mutters. 

They're being more cautious than I expected, but the reasoning there is obvious. The Bash Brothers. They remember dealing with Fulton, why would they want to take them both on? But they knew they wuold be with us, they're on the team and all... so why did they tell us to come here in the first place? 

"You Ducks took our championship," Preston sneers. "Bet you're real proud of yourselves." 

Portman gets in his face. "Yeah, we are. Got a problem with that?" 

Scared or not, the stalemate's broken. Hawks and Ducks go at it all over the court until Jesse and I find ourselves face to face with Larson. For a little while, I'd thought maybe Larson wasn't so bad... but, wishful thinking. I happily join in the pounding. 

In the confusion, I still manage to notice something's wrong. (Well... something _else_.) It comes to me soon enough. _Where's Herek? _Probably trying to cause us trouble... 

As if to underscore that thought, we hear a whistle. (a whistle? Why's he got that infernal thing out here in the middle of the night?) Coach is striding towards us, Herek in tow, and he does not look pleased. 

***** 

"This is the second time you've been caught out past curfew!" Coach yells, sounding frustrated beyond belief. The Hawks snicker. "And you!" he roars at them. "Horrible sportsmanship, your coach won't like this one bit!" 

That shuts them up. What they need is for their coach to find out about what sore losers they are. They've already been kicked off one team, after all... things are not looking good for them as far as their hockey careers are concerned. 

We quietly await our sentence, ready for anything. After all, the Hawks are in trouble too (and boy did they all get a beating before we got caught), we won our game, life is good, who care if we get in a little trouble? But for once, it seems Coach isn't in the mood for discipline. "Ducks, get to bed and stay there. Bears... just _go_." 

We go. They go. Coach goes, and I expect he's looking for some sort of medication. He did that the last time he found out about the team causing problems, too. That really makes him pretty vulnerable. Maybe the team should invest in switching his Tylenol bottle with some Prozac. 

Whoa, scary thought. 

"That didn't go too well," Charlie complains as we all enter his room. After all, it's time to party now. (Coach isn't going to like that much.) 

"Sure it did." Portman grins. "We thrashed them!" 

"But we got caught." 

"So? They did too," Ken points out. 

Charlie looks ready to protest again, so I throw a handful of popcorn at him. A food fight that probably passes for a party ensues, until Coach opens the door at 7 a.m. and yells at us that we're leaving in two hours and he doesn't care that we stayed awake all night, but we've kept him up too. Oops. 

Just to annoy him, we decide we should go to sleep now. 


	16. Epilogue: Homecoming

**Second Time Around**   
Epilogue: Homecoming 

_A/N- It's finally over! (Great, now what am I going to do during health class... wait, write, duh, there's a sequel coming...) Adam's POV_

***** 

I stare out the bus window, positive that yesterday was the best day of my life. We'd won the state championships. We'd showed the Hawks up once and for all. We had the whole weekend to do absolutely nothing. Things couldn't possibly get better. 

How wrong I was. 

"Hey! Cat, Charlie, Adam!" a familiar voice yells as we get off the bus. Rat's racing towards us, grinning, Jay right behind her. "Have you guys heard?" 

"Heard what?" Charlie asks, looking a little surprised. The last time he saw Rat _this_ enthusiastic, she made us play soccer. 

"Varsity lost!" (Varsity's game was yesterday too.) 

All of the Ducks look at each other and, like the truly loyal Eden Hall students we are, burst into cheers. 

Rat starts to give us the details, but Charlie shuts her up. "No, I don't want the details, you'll be telling us it was a close game and I don't want to hear that yet. They _lost!_ I can't wait to see their faces when they get back!" 

In the midst of the celebration, I notice that Julie isn't as thrilled as the rest of the team. I edge over to her. "Hey, what's wrong?" 

"Scooter..." 

Oh, yeah. I see what she means. We're all plenty thrilled that most of the Varsity jocks got beat, but the moment someone points out that Scooter's also on the team, we'll all get very subdued. It's not that he's going to be horribly upset by losing, he's a good sport. But... he's the goalie. And if I know the Varsity—which I (unfortunately) do—they'll have his head for letting too many shots through. 

Speak of the devil. Literally. The Varsity bus chooses now of all times to pull up, and we all turn, ready to... erm... congratulate them. And probably save Scooter's ass. 

Scooter is the first out of the bus, and he does not look at all pleased. He yells something at the rest of his team and marches up to us, stops right in front of Julie... and he _kisses_ her. 

She owes a lot of Ducks a slap or seven for all the cat-calls running through the ranks. Riley and the rest of his team look ready to kill, but Scooter doesn't seem bothered. I guess we were right. They've gone too far and he's not putting up with it anymore... 

He walks away wordlessly, leaving Julie blushing bright red. Rat and I exchange glances. 

"I think," she says finally, "he's in real trouble now." 

"Soccer team still declaring war on Riley's goons?" 

"Of course. You're helping?" 

"Of course." 

Let the battle begin. 


End file.
